Enslaved
by sharkflip
Summary: A triumphant war party returns with an exotic slave, a gift for the ruling house. Katara and Zuko AU
1. Enslaved

**Enslaved**

_posted August 16, 2009_

* * *

Zuko's rage grew with the infection ravaging his arm, festering and spreading as the journey stretched, threatening to consume him if he didn't do _something_. Around him, the warriors – _savages_ – took no notice, giving him food and water at times and otherwise ignoring him. Twice, they rinsed the wound with seawater, the sting of salt making Zuko grit his teeth and strain against his bonds.

Time slipped by like water past the canoe as Zuko felt himself weaken. The grey seas lay endless around them, broken only by other canoes and islands that loomed suddenly from the waves before vanishing again into cloud. He fell into meditation or delirium often, but the chants of the paddling warriors, the steady drumbeats, and the wailing of other captives followed him even then. The attack swam in his memory: eerie cries and fierce painted faces, the blue-eyed man Zuko had choked the life from as blood darkened the water, the stern but laughing chieftain who hauled him to his feet, bound his hands, and threw him into the canoe.

Days – hours? weeks? years? – later, Zuko felt himself pulled from the canoe. He stumbled onto a beach strewn with stones and looked up to low wooden houses painted with fierce patterns, eyes that saw his every thought. Shrieks of excitement rang in his ears as families reunited; his vision swam as warriors stooped to hug children. Zuko tried to shake the sight away, the day too bright and too dim to see as chills racked his body.

The chieftain shouted behind him just before two warriors seized his shoulders and dragged him up the beach and across the rocks. Every step jolted his arm and Zuko struggled to keep himself upright, to avoid being pulled like an _animal_ even if he could hardly stand on his own. They shoved him towards the largest house and pushed him through the narrow opening, the mouth of the painted monster on its face.

Inside was dim, light filtering in from an overhead smoke hole and emanating from a central fire pit. Zuko blinked, dizziness washing over him again before the warriors shoved him to his knees. A crowd gathered around him and Zuko heard the laughing chieftain address them, his voice rising and falling to a cadence. The words were meaningless to Zuko until he caught one from the coastal trade jargon that echoed in his ears and froze his blood in his veins.

_Slave._

He struggled then, the pain in his arm pulsing and blood pounding in his head, but the warriors easily pushed him back down so that he saw only feet surrounding him, soft chubby feet of children, broad dirty feet of warriors, slender feet of women.

One pair of slender feet detached themselves from the crowd to move towards him, stopping a step away. Zuko struggled to raise his head and the warriors gripping his arms released him as he straightened, looked up into blue eyes and a concerned face. The woman looked back down at him, sympathetic and regal, and said something scathing to the chieftain before she reached out to grasp Zuko's chin and study him intently.

Zuko narrowed his eyes and stared back, then sucked in his breath as one of the warriors jostled his arm. Blackness swam across his vision and the woman turned away to bark orders at the surrounding crowd. She turned back to him and Zuko watched her warily, but her attention was on his arm. She reached for it and he dodged to avoid her grip. She frowned.

"Give," she said in the trade jargon.

He remained still and she met his eyes. He saw challenge there, and irritation beside compassion. "_Give_," she said again, and one of the warriors pressed a blade to the back of Zuko's neck, the pressure enough to threaten but not cut.

Zuko hissed, but extended his arm. The woman examined it, then gestured impatiently to the crowd, repeating her orders. She turned back and waved at the warriors behind him. The pressure on his neck vanished, but when her hand returned to his view it held a long knife, coarse metal glinting in the dim light. He tensed, intending to fight – he would _never_ give up without a fight – but before he could move, she cut through the ropes binding his wrists.

The woman lay the knife aside as a girl struggled through the crowd, carrying a water bucket – no, a _basket_, its seams sealed with dark pitch. A second girl followed with an empty basket. The woman dipped her hand into the water and to Zuko's surprise withdrew it in a shimmering glove. She met his eyes again and somehow Zuko knew that she asked permission. He nodded, and she brought her hand and the water to his arm. Coolness flooded the ragged wound, soothing it, and Zuko felt the throbbing, the _burning_ recede.

_A healer_, he realized, and relaxed as fever chills retreated and his mind cleared. The woman smiled and smoothed water along the length of his arm, over the angry red tracks across his skin, drawing the infection away and sealing the wound. She floated the soiled water into the empty basket and turned back to Zuko with fresh water rippling over her hands. The raw welts around his wrists faded beneath her touch before she raised her hand to his cheek, her fingers cool like the sea. The water trailed away, taking the ache of bruises with it and Zuko shook his head as the lingering confusion vanished. He looked up again to see the woman watching him.

"Hurt where?" she asked, gesturing at his other arm and legs, and he shook his head. She lifted an eyebrow, the expression quizzical, and raised her hand again. He stiffened as callused fingertips traced over his skin, over the ripples of scar around his eye. He struggled, trying to turn his head, but the warrior gripped his shoulders and barked a meaningless command. Zuko barred his teeth and growled like some stupid, trapped animal, and then the woman uttered a soft comment and his attention shifted to her eyes.

"No hurt," she said clearly in the trade jargon. "No hurt," she repeated, tapping his cheekbone. "Good." She leaned back on her heels, watching him, then gestured again. "Hurt where?"

"No hurt," Zuko muttered. She arched her brow, then shrugged. She gripped his chin again, her touch gentle but firm as she studied him, then she leaned back and rolled to her feet and brushed her hands on her woven skirt. Without thinking, Zuko reached out and grabbed her wrist. The warrior behind him barked an angry word, but Zuko ignored him and the woman gestured dismissively, watching Zuko with curiosity. "Thank you," he said, the word harsh and guttural and rarely used in the language of trade.

She tipped her head to the side, a faint smile on her face, and it struck him then that she was attractive, _beautiful_, even, in a fierce, foreign manner. He stared back, meeting her gaze with challenge, and watched her smile deepen as she understood his defiance. She reached out again to tip his chin up with her fingers and opened her mouth as if to speak, but two young children burst from behind the circle surrounding them and ran to her, hugging her knees and chattering. Her attention shifted and she turned, shaking her wrist free of his grasp and guiding the two children away. She called over her shoulder to the warrior standing behind him, then vanished into the gathered crowd.

Zuko watched them go, aware of warriors conversing behind him as the crowd turned away. At length, they hauled him to his feet and pushed him towards the end of the lodge. He shrugged their arms away and walked to the narrow door himself.

The laughing chieftain waited outside, speaking with a small group of men. He looked up and Zuko saw him assess the smooth skin of his healed arm, then nod in satisfaction. "Good," he spoke in the trade jargon, then pointed at Zuko. "You. Slave to house." He gestured to the lodge behind them.

Red horror poured into Zuko's vision. His fists clenched, broken fingernails cutting into his palms.

_No_.

He stepped forward, hands moving up to _fight_, but the man laughed. "You," he said again, thumping Zuko in the chest, the gesture almost affectionate. "You kill sister's husband." He turned his head to spit on the ground. "He worthless," the chieftain said, wiping his mouth, then clapping Zuko on the shoulder. "Now, I give her you."

Anger bled into confusion and Zuko stared while the man laughed, amused by some unrevealed joke. He quieted, then tapped himself on the chest. "Sokka," he said clearly, then thumped Zuko on the chest and raised an eyebrow in query.

Zuko turned away, refusing to answer, but the chieftain laughed again. "Good match," he said, and slapped Zuko's back in the way of friends. "Now," he continued. "Learn. You Water Tribe now."

* * *

_Author's Note_: Just a drabble, in answer to a late night rhetorical "Why is _Katara_ the only one to ever be captured and given as an exotic slave?

_Revised October 20, 2010_


	2. Gifted

**Gifted**

_posted August 17, 2009_

* * *

Zuko spent the night outside the lodge, the other male captives huddled nearby – the few captive women had been led inside the night before – as he leaned back against the wooden wall, slipping occasionally into a fitful sleep. He sighed with relief as the sun finally rose over the forested shore opposite the village, thankful for that one constant in this waking nightmare. The morning brightened and he enjoyed the caress of daylight through his body, warming him and filling him with its faint energy.

The peace proved short-lived as warriors emerged from the lodge and the others spread along the beach, jostling the overnight guards with friendly familiarity. They spoke among themselves, eyeing the captives, and Zuko noted that their cautious stares wandered to him most frequently. He narrowed his eyes and watched them back, noting which ones returned the stare and which shied from it.

Easy laughter drew Zuko's attention and he turned to watch as the chieftain – Sokka, he'd named himself – climbed through the lodge's mouth-opening and stretched, looking idly to the captives. His smile broadened as he met Zuko's eye and tipped his head in a way that Zuko could only describe as _cheeky_.

Zuko frowned and turned away, looking back to the sun, but was soon pulled to his feet by two warriors. They shouted something at him and shoved him towards the beach, other captives stumbling with him. Warriors standing near the water shouted something in their own language and a few of the captives began to strip their clothes off.

_Oh, no_, Zuko thought. He stopped in his tracks and glared at the nearest warrior, who frowned and gestured towards the water. Zuko stood his ground, slipping into a defensive stance, and the warrior called to others farther up the beach, then lowered his spear threateningly. Zuko growled, knowing that his words would mean nothing to this man, and feinted; the warrior jabbed at him and Zuko grabbed the spear, twisting it from his grasp and shoving him to the rocky beach.

Shouts rose on the beach behind him as he kicked the warrior once, forcing him to curl inwards defensively, then turned to face the others; he raised the spear and growled again as other warriors swept down the slope. The first slammed into him with a yelp, knocking Zuko to the ground; others soon surrounded him and the fallen warrior, who was helped to his feet. Other warriors grabbed Zuko's arms, pulling him up and forcing him to face the warrior he'd kicked; Zuko readied himself for a blow, but instead the man spat at his feet. He uttered a short, decisive phrase, then turned away.

Zuko blinked in surprise as the warriors around him laughed, but then he struggled for balance as they pulled him along the beach, stopping at the edge of the water. The chieftain stood there, watching as the other captives were herded into the sea; he turned to regard Zuko with both caution and humor. He said something in his own tongue, then paused. "In," he said in the trade jargon, pointing to the water, then pointed at Zuko, indicating his clothes. "Off." Zuko prepared himself to fight again, but then felt a spear jab his back, sharp enough to cause pain, but not break the skin. "_Off_," the chieftain repeated, the smile gone from his face, and he nodded towards the water.

Humiliated and outnumbered – despite his temper, he knew when to fight and when to wait – Zuko pulled his shirt off and threw it to the ground, followed by his boots, his pants, and his undergarments. He waded out into the water before they could force him into it, ignoring the cold and trying to keep his balance on the shifting pebbles. The other captives avoided him and he ignored them, wading and then swimming out into deeper water. He dipped below the surface, the blood pounding in his ears with the numbing cold, and re-emerged, shaking his head to clear his eyes. He looked back to the beach to see the other captives stumbling from the water and swam back in, pulling himself smoothly through the waves.

The warriors herded them across the shore, away from the lodges and toward a broad clearing between the beach and the dwellings. An empty firepit lay at its center, surrounded by fallen logs and beaten earth. Sokka stood at the edge, arms folded and directing the other warriors. Soon the captives stood in a line before him, drying in the sun; Zuko stood near the middle, head defiantly raised, and he noted that he towered over the other captives; indeed over many of the Water Tribe warriors.

The realization afforded him little comfort as warriors moved between the captives with baskets of grease, directing them in words and gestures to smear it over their cleaned skins. Zuko started to refuse, baring his teeth again, but saw the warning look Sokka gave him and he subsided, shaking with anger but remembering the jab of spears to his back.

Another warrior walked down the line, a basket of dark blueish paint in one hand; he dipped his fingers into the paint and drew lines across the captives, some on the forehead, some on the chest, some on the arms. Zuko found himself with twin lines down his forehead and across both forearms and biceps; he resisted the impulse to wipe the marks off and instead held himself still under Sokka's watchful gaze.

Two more warriors moved through the captives, handing each a wide strip of rough woven cloth, dyed a brownish-blue. They said something in their own language and Zuko frowned, refusing to understand. "_On_," Sokka called from where he oversaw the process, and Zuko saw at the edge of his vision the other captives wrapping the cloth around their bodies; a long loincloth that hung to the knees in the front and back, but otherwise covered very little.

This time, Zuko waited for the jab to his back to follow the command; Sokka raised his eyebrows and gestured, as if to say "If you want to stand naked, be my guest," but Zuko found himself with no choice as the warriors behind him shouted and prodded and finally he stood barely clothed with the other captives before the warriors. One of them moved forward to wrap a fine rope, hardly more than a string, around his wrists, tying it loosely in a knot clearly meant to symbolize rather than bind. Zuko shook his hands in token protest, but one of the warriors spoke sharply and he recognized the end of patience in another. He set his teeth and seethed as they moved away, ever watchful.

There followed a long wait, as the sun rose in the sky and the heat of the day grew; some of the other captives sat or squatted, dozing, but Zuko remained standing, glaring, as hunger gnawed in his belly. The warriors stood in groups, seemingly relaxed but watching warily as they talked in low voices. Zuko weighed his chances for escape, measuring the distance between the clearing and the forest, but concluded that the warriors would know the land far better than he. Better to wait, learn, and take a later opportunity than lose his life in futile struggle.

The sun had moved noticeably across the sky before another group moved into the clearing, older men and women led by an ancient crone and a middle-aged man, solid and stern with a trace of a limp in his stride. Zuko watched as the new arrivals, followed by younger women and men who lacked the weapons and lean muscles of warriors, some guiding children, filed into the space.

Motion caught his eye from the opposite side of the clearing as the female captives, similarly painted and simply clothed, were guided into the clearing. The woman who had healed him, the sister of the chieftain, led the group with several other women, her movements graceful but no less powerful than those of her brother. Zuko dropped his eyes and turned away before she looked at him, Sokka's words from the day before echoing in his memory.

A deep voice raised in a strong cadence broke Zuko's reflection, and he turned involuntarily to its source. The middle-aged man spoke, the words indecipherable but the meaning clear as he raised his arms to Sokka. _What do you bring before me_?

The chieftain bowed in response, touching the earth with his fingers and rising to gesture at the captives. His answering words, recited in the same cadence, rang in the silence and the older man nodded.

What followed reminded Zuko of nothing so much as the great slave markets far to the east, save for a single peculiar difference. No bids seemed to be offered nor money exchanged as each captive was brought forward to a new owner, who nodded in thanks to Sokka and then the older man and the crone before taking the rope and leading the slave into the crowd. Zuko noted that some of the new owners were warriors, others men and women who stood in the crowd. Without exception, the female captives went to women and the male captives to men until finally Zuko stood alone before the assembled tribe. He felt the weight of their awareness, glares from the warriors, curiosity from the tribe, and – heavens help him – blushes from some of the young women gathered there. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin and let his stare show that he was _no-one_'s slave.

Sokka's cadence changed as he gestured to Zuko, the words rising in falling as if he told a tale, the motions of his hands, Zuko realized, telling the story of a man nearly felled by a spear before dragging his attacker into shallow water with hands around his throat. Sokka gestured at his arm, at Zuko again, and finally into the crowd, where the healer stood at the fore, watching her brother impassively over folded arms. The chieftain's voice lowered, dropped in the way that ended a sentence, and moved his arms in a grand sweep from Zuko towards the woman, falling silent as he touched the ground again.

The gathered tribe exploded in noise, voices raised in excitement, anger, laughter, and discussion. The woman reddened and strode forward to speak angrily to Sokka, making an irritated chopping motion with one hand and grabbing his upper arm with the other. The chieftain laughed, waving his hand as if to dismiss her concerns, and patted her shoulder affectionately and spoke again. She reddened further, cursed, then threw up her hands as if to say "to the seven hells with you" before turning to shove her way through the crowd.

The chieftain watched her go, an amused expression on his face, and turned to Zuko as the tribe began to disperse. "Good match," he said, echoing his words of the previous day, and laughed heartily as he gestured to the warriors to lead Zuko away.


	3. Watched

**Watched**

_posted August 18, 2009_

* * *

To Zuko's surprise, the warriors led him back to the stretch of beach with lodges clustered along it, drawing him to the central lodge with the fierce painted monster he'd spent the night beside. They pushed his head down to force him through the narrow opening of its mouth and he blinked, adjusting his eyes to the sudden darkness.

Men and women sat before the central fire pit, some with sharp gazes and intricate jewelry that marked them as owners, others behind them with the drab clothing and sideways look that said _slave_ clearer than words. Many them looked up at Zuko's arrival, but went back to eating and talking softly as the warriors forced him to kneel behind the man and the old woman who had presided over the slave ceremony earlier.

They regarded him with mild expressions, the man's gaze evaluating Zuko like a warrior, while the woman seemed to see through him and dismiss him in a single moment. She turned back to the cook-fire with a grunt while the man raised a hand to his chest. "_Hakoda_," he said, his voice deep and smooth, then pointed to Zuko, raising his eyebrow as Sokka had done, and suddenly he saw the family resemblance, the same square jaw and laughing eyes.

He turned his head, as he had before, and refused to answer. Rather than laugh, Hakoda _hmm'd_ deep in his throat, and gestured for Zuko to sit. Zuko stared at him for a moment, then sat, the aromas rising from the cook-fire reminding him that for the moment, he had more than pride to consider. Hakoda reached for him, a knife in one hand, and Zuko forced himself not to flinch, tensing his muscles to fight back – but then the older man simply cut through the rope tied loosely around his wrists, pulling it off and tossing it into the fire.

Hakoda turned away to speak with a half-grown boy, who sprang to his feet and went to the cook-fire. He ladled food into a square wooden bowl, then scrambled back to Hakoda, holding it out to him. Hakoda laughed and waved at Zuko and the boy stared at him for a moment, fear and a touch of awe written on his face as he held out the bowl. Zuko took it carefully, staring at the boy until he flinched and looked away, and Hakoda laughed again, clapping the boy on the back affectionately.

Zuko ignored them and examined the contents of his bowl; he couldn't identify any of the pieces floating in thin broth and it smelled of the sea, but he was ravenous. He noted quickly that the others seated around the fire selected morsels from the bowl, then drank the liquid, so he steeled himself and reached for the largest chunk and bit into it hungrily.

_Fish_, he thought, swallowing quickly and taking another bite. Salt almost overwhelmed the flavor, but Zuko found it not unpleasant as he ate. The next morsel tasted more strongly of the sea, with a slimy texture, but he gulped it down anyway and selected another.

As he finished the broth, he heard a laugh and looked up to see Hakoda watching him. The man gestured to the boy to re-fill the bowl and Zuko handed it over with all the dignity he could muster, sitting on the floor wearing nothing but a rough loincloth and a layer of grease and paint. Hakoda laughed again, then turned at the high squeals of laugher that filled the air. Two young children threw themselves into his lap, talking excitedly, and Hakoda smiled broadly.

Zuko finished the second bowl in silence, all attention around the cook-fire on the giggling children, and for the first time since his capture, he enjoyed a moment of peace.

* * *

The peace had long fled when two warriors shoved him to his knees at the edge of a clearing not far from the beach. A stream lay at the opposite edge and tall grasses waved in the meadow, but Zuko's attention was forced to a familiar pair of feet several steps away.

The guards released his shoulders and retreated, their footsteps quickly fading, and Zuko looked up to see the woman standing over him, two young children clutching her hands. One – the larger one, a girl – regarded him with curiosity on her round face; the other, a small boy, looked quickly at Zuko before hiding his face in the woman's leg, and Zuko realized distantly that these were the children who had been so doted on by Hakoda. The woman looked down at them both, a warm expression on her face as she talked to them softly, and then all three looked at Zuko.

"You," she said, needing no gesture or touch to clarify. "_Watch_." She inclined her head at the two children. "Safe."

He turned his head away pointedly and she stepped forward to grab his face in both hands. He met her eyes involuntarily and as they stared at each other, Zuko remembered the previous day, when her touch had been gentle. "_Slave_," she said clearly, and Zuko hated that he looked away first.

She stepped back and he saw her nod as he swallowed his fury. _Wait_, he thought. He raised his head enough to see her hands, but refused to meet her eyes. _Just wait_.

She nodded in apparent satisfaction and spoke to the two children, a soft torrent of melodic words interrupted by harsh sounds. They watched him with trepidation on their small faces as the woman looked up at Zuko.

"_Tahnra_," she said, placing her hand on the girl's head, then patted the boy's back. "_Akiak_." She hugged both to her again, then released them and stood. She gently shooed them forward, then gave Zuko a meaningful look, steel behind maternal concern. "Watch," she repeated. "Guard. _Safe_."

The girl, Tahnra, reached him first, regarding him with curious gray eyes. On the ground as Zuko was, their eyes were at the same level and he watched as her gaze slid around his face: his mismatched eyes, the scar, short hair loose around his face. Suddenly she smiled, babbling a stream of happy words, and Zuko flinched as she climbed into his lap. The woman's soft laugh made his cheeks burn and he stared, scowling, at the ground as small hands patted his hair.

The little girl turned, speaking to her brother in a reassuring tone, but he remained frozen in place, regarding Zuko with the expression of a rabbit caught on the path. The woman laughed again, pushing him gently forward, and the boy – Akiak – stepped forward slowly. Tahnra seemed to encourage him, waving her arms so that Zuko ducked to avoid an inadvertent blow, and the boy stopped an arm's length away.

_This is the son of the man I killed_, he thought without emotion as Akiak stared at him with familiar blue eyes. Tahnra interrupted the moment by waving again, patting Zuko's arm and chattering as if to say "he's not scary," and the little boy tipped his head in the way that seemed to be a nod, then sat down and sucked on his finger and continued to watch Zuko warily.

"Good," the woman said with approval, then frowned at Zuko. "I watch _you_," she said, a threat in the tone, and he shifted uncomfortably as she turned, walking away towards a group of young women waiting beside the stream.

Zuko watched Akiak, feeling that he must look much the same as Tahnra continued to pat his hair, babbling happily. He scrubbed his arm across his forehead, hoping to remove some of the paint, and leaned back with a sigh as exhaustion replaced the energy to fight. "You wouldn't prove a challenge, anyway," he told Tahnra, voice hoarse from disuse, and she giggled.

* * *

Angry noise roused Zuko from a light sleep and he winced. He tried to pull himself into a crouch, to defend against the unknown attack, but unexpected weight impeded him. Blinking, he looked down to find two children curled up against him, then up into their mother's livid face. She continued to speak in her own tongue, a furious mutter that clearly meant "how _dare_ you?"

Zuko shrugged, trying not to disturb the children. "_Safe_," he said quietly, and she paused to glare at him.

"_Up_," she responded, pointing, and he shook his head, gesturing to Tahnra and Akiak.

"Sleep," he said, meeting her eyes calmly as her face turned red. She hissed, then cursed – quietly, he noted – then turned on her heel and stalked back across the clearing. Zuko let himself smile briefly – however small, it was still a victory – and looked down at the children. Tahnra slept on, her arm draped across his thigh, her head pillowed awkwardly on his knee, while Akiak watched him, blue eyes wide and apprehensive.

Zuko sighed. "You would hate me if I explained," he said softly, and the boy blinked, then yawned. Despite himself, Zuko smiled again, a real smile this time. He raised a hand to gently tousle Akiak's thick brown hair, and the boy curled up and resettled himself on Zuko's lap.

Movement from across the clearing caught Zuko's eye and he looked up to see the woman moving smoothly along the plain, water following her gestures. The young women surrounding her watched, then she stood back, hands on her hips as they mimicked her. _A bending form,_ he realized with a shiver. _She's teaching a bending form._

Zuko leaned back on his elbows and watched as the woman and her students took turns moving through the form. He evaluated the action with a critical eye, noting how the slender one's motion seemed too choppy, the dainty one's too soft, the tall one's _right_ but lacking confidence. All of the motions seemed slow, almost leisurely, and Zuko might have thought them weak until he noted the power behind the woman's motion, the way the water snapped and plunged at her direction. _A master_, he thought grudgingly.

As the shadows lengthened and his stomach began to protest again, the women closed their form and bowed to one another. The woman turned to stride towards him as the younger ones talked with each other, moving down the clearing and out of sight.

He forced himself not to straighten as she approached, maintaining his relaxed posture on the ground. He noted the frown on her face and readied himself for another fight, but Tahnra chose that moment to stir, raising her head sleepily and yawning hugely.

"_Ama_!" she shrieked and threw herself towards the woman. Her grim expression changed to a smile as the little girl crashed into her and together they laughed. Tahnra grinned up at her, talking excitedly and pointing to Zuko. The woman narrowed her eyes and watched him, but her expression this time showed speculation rather than anger. Zuko wondered what had passed between mother and daughter, but then Akiak woke with a yawn no smaller than his sister's and the woman took Tahnra's hand and walked to Zuko.

Akiak struggled to his feet to toddle towards the woman and she smiled gently as he hugged her, hiding his face against her body. Zuko felt cold for a moment, the absence of warmth allowing the chill of the late afternoon breeze to reach him, then rolled to his feet.

The woman frowned and stood herself, balancing Akiak against her hip and holding Tahnra's hand; she spoke sharply to Zuko but the words meant nothing to him. He regarded her without expression and she huffed, then turned away and walked down the path in the direction that her students had vanished.

Zuko watched her as she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him, jerking her head angrily in the direction of the path. He started to shake his head in return, but his stomach growled again and he decided, grudgingly, to once again save petty resistance for a later time.

He walked towards the woman, looking resolutely at the path beyond and not _her_, but then Tahnra broke free of her mother and ran back to Zuko, a smear of dark blue paint on her cheek and smiling brightly as she took his hand. Zuko blinked in surprise, then returned her smile briefly as she dragged him forward. He looked up and met the woman's eyes before he realized it; her face wore the same surprise as his, and they walked together back to the village in silence save for Tahnra's happy monologue.


	4. Overlooked

**Overlooked**

_posted August 19, 2009_

* * *

Despite his brief nap, fatigue tried to claim Zuko over and over that evening. The evening meal stretched over several courses, dried fish and meats, stewed berries poured over a savory white mush, and more of the thin, salty soup from earlier, and once again, slaves ate the same foods as their owners – though they were served last.

Too tired for more than token protest, Zuko allowed himself to be seated a few handspans behind the woman and her children, themselves seated behind Sokka and the older man, Hakoda. The old woman sat on Hakoda's other side on a thick cushion that would have elevated her above all others, save for her own diminutive stature.

Though Sokka had greeted Zuko with a friendly slap on the back, startling him and making the chieftain laugh, he now showed a different side as he helped Akiak eat with stern patience. When the boy pushed his bowl aside, knocking it to the ground with a clatter, Sokka picked it up and frowned, his voice sharp as he chastised the boy. Akiak stuck his slower lip out, looking as if he were about to cry, but Sokka said another stern word, tipping his chin up and giving him a reserved smile. Akiak's lip trembled, but he sniffled and did not cry and Zuko idly pondered this change from the laughing chieftain who greeted him like kin.

Zuko finished his own meal and leaned back, resting his weight against a wooden tier and debating whether it was worth a potential fight to lay down and sleep. He must have made some sound, because Akiak suddenly turned to him, distress still visible in his expression; the boy scrambled to his feet and toddled to Zuko, climbing into his lap and hiding his face against Zuko's chest. Zuko looked down, bemused but reluctantly charmed, then noticed that the lively conversation a few feet away had ceased.

Sokka and his sister stared at him, the chieftain amused, the woman annoyed. Zuko returned their stares with one of defiance. "You wanted me to look after them, so here I am, looking after them," he said in his own language, his voice still hoarse.

Sokka laughed and pushed his sister affectionately; she muttered and turned away as Tahnra's head popped into view from the lower tier. Her eyes widened as she saw Akiak leaning against him, and she scrambled up to settle herself beside Zuko, talking rapidly as she pulled one of his arms around her narrow shoulders. Sokka laughed harder at this, pointing at the woman as she hunched into herself, and Zuko wondered at the subtleties he missed.

Their attention was soon drawn away as female slaves moved forward to bank the fire and clear the remains of the meal away. Sokka stood and his sister beside him to allow a slave to place bowls inside the chest they sat on; the chieftain stretched and said something to the woman, then walked towards the crone still presiding over the lodge. The woman watched him go, then turned to glare at Zuko again; he defied her this time by closing his eyes and leaning his head back, but she made no audible response.

He must have fallen asleep, as the noise of drums and chants roused him with a start. Akiak still lay on his chest, breathing deeply, but Tahnra was absent; Zuko looked up to see her seated between her mother and Sokka again, clapping her hands. Dancers moved on the wide platform behind where the crone had been seated, wild figures with huge, grotesque masks who crouched and leapt to the drumbeats.

Their motions reminded him of the warriors who had captured him, so he closed his eyes and leaned his head back again, listening to the drums and ignoring the dancers' cries and the audience's chants.

He woke the second time to feel Akiak being drawn away; he opened his eyes to see the woman straightening, the boy in her arms. "_Up_," she whispered, and Zuko rose to his feet with a yawn. She looked up at him, her expression hidden in the dark, but Zuko felt somehow that he was surprised by his obedience. _Wait_, he thought again, gritting his teeth. _Just wait_.

The woman turned, jerking her head for him to follow, and he did after a moment, picking his way through the house after her. She lay Akiak down on a wide platform, piled with furs and woven blankets and Tahnra sprawled bonelessly across one side, then turned back to Zuko and pointed to the floor beside it. "Here," she whispered. "You. Here. Sleep."

"I _was_ sleeping," he muttered, but she either didn't hear or chose to ignore him as she climbed onto the bed beside Akiak, turning her back to him and laying still. Zuko watched them for a moment, then settled down into the indicated space. It was covered with a mat woven from grass or reeds, with two coarse blankets folded beside.

As Zuko stretched out beneath the larger blanket, he thought distantly of the eastern plantations, the emaciated slaves chained and whipped and worked so brutally that they seldom lived more than two years once purchased, but his always-present temper simmered and he refused to allow any feelings of gratitude to surface.

* * *

Zuko roused at dawn, though he felt the absence of the sun, hidden behind thin clouds visible through the smoke hole. Yesterday's fatigue had faded, but as he stretched and sat up, his skin felt grimy, paint and grease and dust coating him. He grimaced in distaste, then raised his head to survey the lodge's occupants. Faint snores greeted his scrutiny, and none stirred. _Night people_, he thought suddenly, remembering the evening's feasting and dancing, and smiled as he rose quietly to his feet.

His stomach rumbled as he picked his way carefully along the beach to the sea, reminding him of the weakness that remained after the journey to this village. Grey clouds hung low over the forest and the water, obscuring the far shore and bringing a chill to the air. Zuko drew warmth from the hidden sun, discarding his loincloth on the beach and wading into the water.

The sea had not warmed since yesterday's forced plunge, but he ignore the cold as he sluiced water over his arms and back, scrubbing himself as best he could and then making a shallow dive away from the shore. Zuko allowed himself to savor the swim, a small act of defiance and more importantly a chance to clean himself. As he stepped slowly back to the beach, he scrubbed his arms again; faint blue stains and traces of grease remained on the skin, but he felt vastly better for the experience. He let himself air-dry, looking out over the sullen water and stretching languorously until footsteps across the rocks alerted him to her presence.

"_You_," the woman growled, but he ignored her to finish his stretch before turning. She wore a patterned blanket over her shoulders and a woven hat painted with flowing figures; her eyes remained steadily on his face, Zuko noted, but was that a hint of a blush? "You," she repeated, gesturing to him, the lodge, the water.

He shrugged and stooped to pick up his loincloth. "Wash," he said as he wrapped it about his waist; her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, then she threw up her arms as if exasperated.

"I. _You_. Go," she said, pointing at the lodge with color in her cheeks but irritation in her glare, and he shrugged. She watched him as he walked carefully back up the shore, and a light, misting rain began to fall as he heard her follow him across the rocks.

* * *

Days passed in similar routine, rising, bathing, eating, watching Tahnra and Akiak while the woman taught or occasionally practiced alone, eating, dancing, sleeping… Zuko found himself wondering how the food for the meals remained steady, as he had yet to seen warriors return with meat from a kill or women with baskets of plants and nuts.

Through the routine, Zuko watched, learning the pattern, the small actions that made up each day, as strength lost to fever and infection returned with steady meals and the slow movement of spring toward summer. Days wet with a light rain were followed by blustery winds that rattled the lodge, and Sokka showed him how to drape the smaller blanket around his shoulders in a cloak as effective as oiled canvas.

He saw many details of life in the water tribe; Sokka commanded the warriors, but Hakoda commanded Sokka, and the old crone who appeared to be Hakoda's mother presided over every decision of importance. The woman and several others bent water and together trained younger girls, but no men seemed to practice this ability. Both men and women engaged themselves in crafts, weaving baskets or carving wood into vessels and paddles and boxes or repainting the lines that defined the lodges. Female slaves tended the hearths but free women cooked; male slaves accompanied their male owners to tie nets, inspect canoes, and perform countless unnamed small tasks.

More interesting to Zuko, the baskets that provided drinking water to the lodge were filled in the afternoon and usually neared empty by late morning. Male members of the household often ate their mid-day meals elsewhere, and sometimes nearly everyone ate outside, taking advantage of the fine spring weather. On many days following this meal, only elders and mothers with young children remained in the lodge, fussing over their toddlers and infants in ways that mystified Zuko and that he found himself excluded from.

All of this seemed choreographed to a rhythm foreign to Zuko, but he observed it nonetheless as he endured the woman's alternating silence and sharp comments with only minor protest, a turned head or a petty refusal or words muttered angrily under his breath. The rest of the house and the tribe watched Zuko with expressions that ranged from curious to shy to occasionally hostile, but mostly they avoided him as he followed the woman, guiding or carrying her children and keeping them from mischief or harm, and an idea slowly took shape.

* * *

One afternoon, not long after his capture and with the summer solstice still distant, the mothers fussed over their children, hurrying their usual tasks to gain the rare sunshine faster. Even many of the elders had left their usual places in the lodge to sit on rocks or logs washed onto the beach and talk of days gone by, or whatever those who have reached a rare age talk of.

Zuko knew this as he knew that the warriors and craftsmen would not return until the evening meal and that the young waterbenders already waited by the stream for their instructor. He also knew that this was likely the best opportunity that would come to him, and so when the woman moved past where he sat on the wooden floor, he lunged.

She lurched off balance as he caught her around the shoulders with one arm and pulled her against him and pinned her arms to her sides; he trapped her legs between his and curled himself over her before she could break away. He knew that none of those left in the lodge were warriors, but still he showed his determination by extending his hand and calling fire from the air with the gesture and setting it to dance along his upturned palm.

She stiffened and those women still in the lodge gasped and Zuko knew he was the center of attention as he had been during the auction, when he stood alone and refused to bow his head before them. "_I go_," he hissed in the trade jargon, his voice low and cracking, and he felt a tremor run through her as she stared at the flames.


	5. Snared

**Snared**

_posted August 20, 2009_

* * *

Zuko's sharp words seemed to echo, the lodge silent save for the roar of the fire in his hand. The woman stayed frozen in his arms save for that faint tremor, and Zuko felt somehow disappointed that she had so easily succumbed to fear.

He brushed the disappointment aside, gesturing towards the door with a jerk of his head; her hair tickled his neck, pressed together as they were, but he ignored it. "You. I. _Out_," he hissed and the woman squirmed, but Zuko's grip remained too strong for her to break. He tightened his arm around her shoulders, lifting her slightly as he turned towards the narrow opening through which daylight shone, and she cursed, her tone betraying rage. Once outside, he would decide what to do next, if it seemed better to release the woman or keep her hostage as he fled, and he avoided looking at where he knew Tahnra and Akiak sat.

The woman squirmed again, trying to elbow him in the stomach, but she lacked leverage with her upper arms pinned as Zuko took a slow step, sliding her with him. She brought her hands together and tried to lean forward, but he ignored her as he moved closer to the door, closer to freedom.

His legs felt oddly heavy, slowing his next step, and he forced himself to move faster but a pressure like that of fatigue built in his arms, loosening his grip and making his hand holding the fire shake. Zuko frowned as the woman raised her own arms, pulling free, and then his arms dropped, hanging at his sides like slackened halyards as the fire sputtering out.

Terror flooded Zuko as he realized that he couldn't move – that his body moved beyond his control – and the woman stepped forward, rage in her eyes as she turned to face him. She raised her arms, then thrust them outward, the motions like yet wholly different than her fluid waterbending forms and Zuko clenched his teeth to control the fear as pressure built in his head, his lungs. He struggled to breathe, feeling his throat constrict as the woman closed her hands into claws, and he realized with the sick horror of defeat that she was _bending_ his _blood_ and he was utterly at her mercy, couldn't even raise his hands to clutch his neck in an instinctive move to protect himself. Red and black slipped into his vision, the images before him blurring, but he saw clearly that the woman's expression changed from one of rage to one of satisfaction and he knew that she had seen his fear.

_Do it_, he urged her silently, glaring at her through narrowed eyes. Better to die in agony than live having realized how thoroughly she controlled him, how he would be _nothing_ more than a _slave_ for as long as he lived, and he let his eyes fall closed as he waited for blackness.

A croak cut through the air, and Zuko felt the pressure slacken, just enough for him to gasp in a shallow breath. A second croak sounded, longer than the last, and he realized suddenly that it was speech, slow words from the crone in whom lay the final authority of the house. The pressure lessened further and Zuko forced his eyes open to see the woman staring at the crone, surprise and disgust on her face. The crone raised one gnarled hand, pointing at her with a shaking finger, and spoke again, more forcefully, her voice somehow holding the strength of thunder in it as she brought her hand down to one bent knee.

The woman frowned, began to speak, but the crone cut her off, slashing her hand through the air, then pointing again. Her next words were low, almost gentle, but with the weight of judgment. The woman looked at the ground in front of her, hands still raised but cheeks flushed and the pressure on Zuko's throat slacked entirely and he drew in a deep, shuddering breath, feeling sensation if not control return to his body; he wanted to collapse to his knees, feel the solidity of the ground beneath his hands, but the woman's invisible grip held him immobile.

The crone continued to speak, sharply, as one would speak to an errant child, and the woman muttered something under her breath. The crone laughed, a rusty creak of a noise, and the woman's face flamed she stared at the floor. The crone spoke one final word and the woman dropped her hands and Zuko's knees buckled as the pressure disappeared entirely. He fell forward, landing heavily on his side, and the last thing he saw before honest darkness claimed him was Tahnra and Akiak watching him, their eyes wide not with fear, but instead something akin to awe.

* * *

Zuko woke the first time to find the woman watching him, sitting cross-legged on the wooden tier before him. Her gaze was guarded, its earlier hostility replaced with some unfamiliar emotion that he struggled to define before giving up and trying to move.

He lay awkwardly on his side, knees aching and legs tangled from the fall, and he grunted as he moved his head and pain arced between his temples. He grit his teeth and rolled onto his back, then closed his eyes and cursed under his breath as he heard the woman move beside him, the rustle of her woven skirt nearing. He forced himself not to flinch, but then her hand was cool on his forehead and the pain subsided and he allowed himself to sigh once, softly.

Before he slipped into sleep, he heard her voice, gentle as before it had been violent, but the words were meaningless and he slept without dreaming.

* * *

He woke the second time to find Tahnra watching him closely, Akiak beside her as they leaned down from the sleeping platform. They seem delighted to see him awake, Tahnra babbling happily and repeating one word in particular while Akiak watched with round eyes and sucked on his fingers.

Zuko pushed himself into a sitting position, trying to ignore the throb in his head and the foul taste in his mouth as he leaned back against the low wooden wall. Small hands patted his hair as the house's notice weighed on him, sideways glances and a steady stare from Hakoda across the room, but no warriors threatened him with dark blades and the woman was absent from the lodge.

He put his hand to his forehead as Tahnra scrambled down from the sleeping platform and climbed into his lap; he tried to ignore her, but she tugged at his other hand, resting on his knee. He frowned as she turned his hand over, repeating the same word and wiggling her fingers over his, the gesture describing waving grasses, or flowing water, or…

_Fire._

Tahnra's tone changed to the beginning of a childish tantrum as Akiak slithered down to sit on the woven mat and Zuko weighed the choices laid before him, then lowered his hand from his forehead to gently trap both her small hands. He lifted his other hand, the one Tahnra had first grabbed, and moved it away, bringing low flames to rest in his palm.

She squealed and tore her hands from his, clapping in delight. Akiak pulled himself onto Zuko's knee, entranced, and Zuko readied himself to douse the flame, but neither child reached for it. Instead they watched, faces clothed in wonder, and he allowed it to spread across his palm, flickering softly.

"Fire," he said in the trade jargon, but Tahnra shook her head.

"_Fire_," she said earnestly, and he repeated the word, its liquid tone foreign on his tongue. She clapped her hands again, tipping her head in approval and smiling hugely.

Zuko couldn't stop the smile that spread slowly across his own face, and he made the flames leap and dance in shapes as the two children watched.

* * *

People from other houses joined them at the evening meal, faces Zuko recognized distantly from the beach, from the slave auction, from moving through the village; not the entire tribe, certainly, but warriors and women with the ornate blankets and jewelry that seemed to signal leadership. They sat and ate with the members of Hakoda's house, occasionally casting glances at Zuko, where he sat behind Sokka and the woman as if nothing unusual had occurred that day. He ignored them and ate his meal, the last of the headache slowly receding.

After slaves had cleared the remains from around the firepit, Hakoda sat on the lodge's central tier, where the crone had presided from during dinner. The chief – for Sokka clearly did not dictate orders beyond those of the warriors – settled himself with legs crossed and hands resting on his knees, the pose radiating a relaxed readiness. The crone sat to one side, her gnarled hands occupied with a spindle and a bundle of un-spun wool, seemingly indifferent to the proceedings.

The conversations and small noises within the lodge diminished, fading into silence as Hakoda regarded them with a level gaze. His first words were slow, spoken softly in a deep voice that resonated through the lodge. His voice rose and fell in metered cadence, capturing the audience's attention, and Zuko felt the power in them despite not understanding the meaning.

Hakoda raised his arms and dropped, them, leaning to the side to regard individuals within the audience, his gaze lingering longest on the woman, who ducked her head – with shame, modesty, or some other emotion, Zuko couldn't determine. Hakoda continued on, nodding at Sokka, who held the gaze, then he paused in the words to look directly at Zuko. He said one more sentence – and Zuko felt sure he heard Tahnra's word for _fire_ – then felt silent.

As one, the assembly turned to regard Zuko, and he forced himself not to flinch under their stares, ranging from hostility to admiration to skepticism to wonder. He swallowed nervously but kept his head up, again remembering the auction and how he refused to bow to these people who thought he could be owned.

Akiak stirred on his lap, blinking at the sudden attention, and distantly Zuko noted Sokka's silent laughter, the woman's sullen glare as she refused to meet his eyes, something like adoration painted on Tahnra's face.

The crone sniffed audibly, muttering as she spun fleece into yarn, and the spell broke. Hakoda spoke again, the words ordinary where before they had been portentous. The tribespeople moved about, some stretching, others busying themselves with tasks interrupted by the pronouncement.

No dancers took the stage that night, but individuals and pairs sang, drummed, and recited meaningless ballads late into the night, and Zuko felt the tribe collectively watching him.

* * *

Finally, after the representatives from other houses had left and the fire died to glowing coals and the lodge filled with soft snores, the woman pulled the sleeping children from Zuko's lap and bundled them into bed beside her. Tahnra made a faint noise of protest while Akiak simply snuggled into the blankest. Instead of immediately turning onto her side, however, the woman rested her chin on her folded arms and stared at him, the expression still guarded but also still lacking hostility. Instead, she looked tired in the faint light, a feeling he knew reflected his own face.

She said something in her own tongue, the words quiet, then sighed and looked at him with brow furrowed.

Entranced but cautious, he held her gaze, her vivid blue eyes barely visible in the dark. "I'm sorry I killed your husband," he said softly. "I didn't want this, either." She blinked, but her expression didn't change, and they watched each other for a long moment.

Tahnra murmured again in her sleep, turning over restlessly in the way of children and drawing the woman's attention. She gave Zuko a long, inscrutable look before rolling over, taking Tahnra with her. Zuko turned his eyes back to the lodge, tracing the path of faint starlight filtering through the smoke hole. He sat awake for a long time listening to the woman's even breathing, but knowing that sleep eluded her, too.


	6. Drenched

**Drenched**

_posted August 21, 2009_

* * *

Little seemed to change, a fact that troubled Zuko as he waded from the chilly sea. He had once seen a slave whipped until his back was bloodied for the offense of stealing a biscuit from the officers' pantry. The Water Tribe's lack of concern puzzled him.

He stared out to the distant shore, the rising sun painting it green-gold as he steamed the water from his skin. True, the woman had shown that she could stop him dead in his tracks – an indignity that burned like ice against his pride – but her expression two nights previous held some nuance that he couldn't decipher.

He wrapped his loincloth around his waist and sunk into a firebending form, and let his thoughts flow with the movements, remembering the way her eyes had glinted in the dying firelight. He wondered if she had apologized to him, as he had to her, or if she had cursed him, or wished that he had never been brought to this place. He wondered what the crone had said that made the woman release him, what Hakoda had said to the house and to the people from other houses.

He wondered what he should do next.

Zuko closed the form as sunlight touched the end of the wide, sweeping bay the village lay on. He let his breath out slowly, then turned to walk back up the beach – and nearly yelped in surprise to see the woman standing a short distance away, watching him.

He stared at her, breathing heavily for a moment as he tried to compose himself; she raised her eyebrows minutely and he waited for her irritated "_you_," but she made no movement, no short gesture and he felt himself unexpectedly flush under the scrutiny.

She finally stepped forward and he noticed a bundle held in her arms; she extended it to him and he took it reflexively. "You," she said simply, but the inflection was different somehow and he continued to stare at her until she nodded towards the bundle. He looked down to find his shirt and pants, folded neatly and mended in tiny, even stitches made with coarse yarn.

He looked up, surprised again; she tipped her head back for a moment before turning away and walking back towards the lodge. He watched her go, still stunned, then shook his head and dressed quickly.

_Yours_, he realized as he fastened his pants, the difference in tone suddenly clear. _Not "you."_ More puzzled than ever, Zuko slipped his shirt on, tying it closed as he picked his way carefully up the beach.

* * *

The woman looked him up and down once when he returned to the lodge, but then turned away to help Akiak with his meal. Zuko dished out a bowl and settled himself beside Tahnra, who looked at him with wide eyes before reaching out to touch his tunic. She fingered the material, then turned to the woman to speak.

The woman nodded distractedly, absorbed with Akiak and his struggle against the bowl, and Tahnra turned back to Zuko, seeming to comment again on his clothing. "I was surprised, too," he admitted as she patted his knee.

* * *

Later that day as Zuko sat on the grass while Tahnra and Akiak chased insects nearby, he idly debated leaving, just standing up and walking away. Would the woman freeze him in place, choke the life from him? Or would he be able to reach the forest, to find his way through the wilderness? He shivered despite the afternoon's warmth, remembering the feel of his throat closing and deciding not to test either just yet.

The woman's voice cut into his introspection; he looked up to see both she and her students watching him. She gestured impatiently to him, raising her arms, and he stood, stretching. She said something, its tone again subtly different than before, and then without warning threw up her arm and water followed the movement to fly at him. Zuko moved reflexively, bringing his own arms up and fire with them and the water hissed into steam.

She nodded in satisfaction and turned back to her students, her gesturers mimicking their bending. Zuko heard Tahnra's word for "fire" in the speech, then the woman faced him again, slipping into a bending pose.

He frowned at her and she gestured, saying a sharp word and exaggerating her own posture by bouncing on her bent legs; he settled into a basic firebending stance, the first formed learned by novices, and she tilted her head minutely in approval. They stared at each other for a long moment before she spoke a low sentence, emphasizing a word at its end, then paused, repeated the word at a shout, and brought her hands up as water slashed into the air.

_Go__!_ he realized, or something akin to it, _start_, maybe, or _okay_ – but then he stopped thinking of what the word meant and sent fire from his hands, the water again hitting it and steaming away. He attacked in kind, punching the air and letting fire stream from his fists; the woman smirked and blocked it by raising a wave to absorb the flames with a hiss – but then Zuko dropped to the ground and swept his legs through the air, making a wave of fire that scorched the grasses as it moved towards her.

She leapt away just in time and the fire dissipated over the stream. They stared at each other for a moment before Zuko moved to attack again, but the woman called out a short word. Zuko frowned and made as if to move again, but she repeated the word, crossing her arms and moving them out. _Stop_, he realized, and filed the word away; he saw her register his recognition and turn back to her students.

Zuko pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside and then sinking into a tiger stretch. His muscles felt tight with disuse and he resolved to resume practice of his forms, regardless of the woman's approval.

A nervous giggle broke his concentration as he moved smoothly to a crane stretch; Zuko looked up to see one of the students looking away quickly, her face red. The woman frowned at this, then gestured and resumed a bending position. Zuko faced her, drawing a deep breath and holding his hands ready and she shouted again and they _sparred_.

The woman drew water from the stream, bending it into coiling tentacles that lashed at him; Zuko dodged them, spinning fire around the retreating water and the woman ducked. He drew his hands together, gathering flame and then sending it rushing towards her; she rolled out of the way and water flowed up from the ground to splash into the fire, smothering it.

Distantly, he heard Tahnra's happy laughter, punctuated by her claps, but then the woman had redirected the water into a torrent that crashed into the ground; Zuko twisted himself to the side just in time bent flame into a curve, a slow cyclone that roiled around them both even as it didn't touch the waving grasses. He glanced away to mark where Tahnra sat, Akiak beside her, then tightened the spiral as the woman drew water up from the wet ground like a giant version of the splash that follows a pebble tossed into a stream; it arced out over the flame, creating more steam that rose around them both.

They faced each other, breathing heavily and Zuko saw a tight smile grow on the woman's face, almost a smirk, before she launched herself forward, raising her arms and with her the stream itself and he threw himself backwards but not far enough and she crashed into him with the water, the weight driving him into the ground.

"_Stop_," he gasped, imitating the woman's word as the water finally drained away towards the stream. The woman pulled herself up from where she had handed across his legs, pushing wet hair from her forehead and laughing, and it so transformed her face that Zuko just stared for a long moment as she bent the water from her clothing, sending it away with a flick of her wrist.

She turned to look at him and he held his breath as her smile faded, but neither did the hostile look return and Zuko again found himself wondering _what had changed_. Then her face seemed to close and she stood, brushing her hands on her skirt and turning back to her students, dismissing him with a gesture.

He watched her move away, then stood to steam the water from his clothing. He searched for Akiak and Tahnra, saw them nearby, and walked the short distance to sit back on the dry grass beside them. Tahnra put her hands on his thigh, peering up at him with approval on her face as if to offer praise or a critique.

"You like firebending, then?" he asked her, and she smiled. "Is that a yes?" He tilted his head back in imitation of her nod, raising his eyebrow in question, and her eyes widened.

"_Yes_," she said, tipping her own head back, and he repeated the word and the motion. She broke into excited chatter, then turned call out to the woman, who acknowledged it with a distracted gesture as she spoke with her students. Zuko caught the words for "yes" and "fire" in the jabber of meaningless syllables, and he smiled despite himself.

* * *

Tahnra proved an insatiable teacher, dragging Zuko around the meadow to point at flowers, rocks, trees, and endless objects, saying their name with each gesture, and waiting for him to repeat the word. If he hesitated, she began to pout, crossing her chubby arms across her chest and frowning until he humored her. "Do you realize how much you look like your mother?" he asked her after the first time, but she had pointed stubbornly at the flower until he repeated her words.

Akiak toddled along behind them, often pausing to sit in the grass as Tahnra continued her lessons, until finally Zuko heard shouts from across the meadow. He looked up to see the sun low in the sky, and turned to Tahnra. "I think it's dinner time," he said, and she spoke in return. Zuko recognized none of the words, but he listened for the pattern behind them, the pauses and tonal variations that indicated a _sentence_, rather than just words, and he realized with a sudden cold jolt that something in him wanted to _learn_, to be able to talk with this child and understand what she talked of in return.

The thought scared him more than the feel of invisible fingers around his neck, and the fear lingered until he fell asleep late that night.


	7. Left

**Left**

_posted August 23, 2009_

* * *

Zuko and the woman stared at each other, both panting from exertion but still unyielding. He had let the flames flicker out, but he held his fist in the traditional way that to a firebending opponent would have signaled defeat, the end of the match.

The woman, clearly untrained in firebending, held her own hands before Zuko's throat, the threat in them as clear as the water that hovered around them, but he saw that she, too, recognized the stalemate. "Stop," she said with authority, but Zuko thought he heard a faint uplift to her tone, a hint of a question in the command.

He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded in the way of the Water Tribe, tipping his head back. Her look held faint approval as she nodded in return and dropped her hands, then gestured towards Tahnra and Akiak, who watched frogs in the stream a short distance away. Because the motion of her hand made a graceful change from the angry jerks of her chin, because she didn't snap out a clipped word and instead watched him with eyes wary rather than hostile, Zuko dropped his own hands, stepping back and stretching his shoulders. He held her eyes for a moment more, then deliberately turned away to walk towards the stream bank, still flexing taught muscles in his back. The woman stayed silent behind him, then he heard her speak to her students, who quickly responded.

The previous night's rain had left the ground wet and the air felt almost steamy as the sun burned it away. Zuko ignored his shirt where he'd left it draped over a log and settled into a fleeing-stag stretch, wincing at the pull on his abductors and hamstrings. Since resuming regular bending practice and beginning to spar with the woman and occasionally her students, Zuko had felt both his flexibility and his temper improve, joined by the satisfaction of facing a challenging opponent for the first time in… longer than he wanted to remember.

He shook his head, rolling into a cricket stretch as Tahnra skipped up to join him in the grass, talking quickly. Zuko heard the word for "water" and that of "frog" as well as "Akiak," but the rest of the story remained meaningless. He smiled anyway as she sat down beside him, mimicking his posture and the bend of his legs as Akiak toddled up, water still dripping from his hair as he settled on Zuko's other side. "_Frog_," he said clearly, his face scrunched up in distaste, and Zuko laughed out loud despite himself.

* * *

They ate at midday on the beach, watching warriors lay out nets and spears and other pieces of equipment that Zuko didn't recognize. Sokka seemed to direct the process, and looked up from where he talked with two warriors to lift a hand in greeting, grinning before he turned back to the work. The chieftain and his warriors had been absent more often recently, as spring accelerated its approach to summer.

A short groan from one of the young waterbenders caught Zuko's attention, and he turned back to the small circle in time to see her wince. The others looked at her and seemed to exchange some invisible sign, for as one they turned to the sea, kissing their fingers and extending their palms. Then two of the young women looked sideways at him and blushed. Zuko turned away, ignoring the rising giggles as he watched the preparations on the beach.

After the meal, the woman turned to Zuko and gestured to Tahnra and Akiak, who carefully overturned rocks on the beach to watch tiny crabs scuttle away from the light. "_Here_," she said, the word familiar from their sparring sessions; he held her eyes, unmoving, and she frowned. "Here," she repeated with a lift of her brows, and he nodded. He spent the afternoon sitting at the high tide line while Tahnra piled stones, driftwood, sea weeds, and other treasures beside him.

* * *

The woman did not return that evening, nor did her students. Nor did several of the other mothers and young women, and several of the female slaves, Zuko noted. He sat beside Sokka that evening, Sokka again stern as Akiak struggled with his bowl.

Zuko gestured at the empty space on the wooden tier, the other empty spaces in the lodge usually occupied by women. "_Where go_?" he asked, using the words the woman used during her bending lessons.

Sokka frowned, and Zuko repeated the words in the trade jargon. "Where she go?"

Understanding lit Sokka's face. "Where_ go,_" he repeated, using a different word than that which began sparring matches. Zuko repeated the words and Sokka nodded in approval, clapping him on the shoulder, then pointed up towards the smoke hole, tracing a line through the sky as he spoke. Zuko furrowed his brow, trying to pick meaning from the words, but they were foreign and he finally shook his head. Sokka laughed.

"Moon time," he said in the trade jargon, and Zuko frowned. The moon was waning, a narrow crescent, and he wondered what that had to do with the women disappearing –

_Oh_.

Moon time.

Zuko's cheeks flamed and he looked hastily to the floor while Sokka laughed loudly and thumped his back so hard he almost staggered forward.

Later that evening, two elderly slaves who usually sat below the crone readied Tahnra and Akiak for bed, settling them into Hakoda's broad sleeping platform. As Zuko drifted off to sleep beside the woman's empty platform, he felt an odd pang of loneliness that he pushed away as soon as it surfaced.

He woke later as weight settled against his side and he looked up blearily to see Tahnra tugging a blanket down from the sleeping platform around herself and Akiak, who sucked at his fingers even in sleep. Zuko watched them for a moment, a suspiciously warm, throbbing feeling rising in his throat. Sleep was long in returning to him, but when he woke the next morning, the two children still curled beside him, it was with contentment made unfamiliar by its intensity.

* * *

Zuko felt at loose ends the next morning, and it must have shown on his face for Sokka took he and the woman's children in tow, leading them back towards the lodge. A group of elders sat outside, watching a group of children; Sokka shooed Tahnra and Akiak in, his expression stern as Tahnra started to wail. She subsided as Sokka crouched to speak with her, gesturing behind his back for Zuko to stay standing. She sniffed and nodded and looked up at Zuko with wide eyes and he felt consumed with guilt as he followed Sokka along the high tide line to a rough pavilion with canoes overturned beneath it.

Sokka shoved him forward into the pavilion, talking rapidly with a tall, broad man who regarded Zuko with a blank look as Sokka strolled away. "_Orvik_," he said, tapping his chest, and Zuko nodded but did not offer his own name. The man shrugged and handed him a battered tin pot, half-full of a sticky black substance. Zuko took it gingerly by the handle and Orvik cupped his hands beneath it, saying the word for fire but with an extra syllable.

_Burn?_ Zuko wondered, but the man's fingers seemed too gentle. _Heat_, he realized suddenly. _He wants me to heat this_. Zuko nodded again and extended his hand, letting gentle flames play along his palm as he moved it under the pot.

Orvik said an approving word, watching his hand. "Stop," he said clearly and Zuko let his hand hover. Orvik nodded, then spoke with a series of gestures that Zuko interpreted as "keep it warm, but don't let it get too hot." He followed the man across the shelter to where two other men worked, rolling long strands of reddish-brown fibers on their thighs. They looked up as Orvik and Zuko approached, climbing to their feet as Orvik pointed to them in turn. "Yarak. Arluk."

As the day progressed, Zuko came to learn all three men's work patterns, as well as their names. Yarak and Arluk would hammer fiber into long cracks in each canoe's hull, then Zuko would carefully pour heated pitch atop the fiber, which Orvik forced deeper into the crack, shaping the seams with a smooth piece of horn. They sealed the last crack as the afternoon deepened into evening and Orvik brought his hand down on the canoe's prow with a satisfied smack. He spoke briefly to his three assistants, his tone pleased, then called to the warriors busy with other tasks on the beach.

Zuko then found himself keeping the pitch heated as warriors dipped new spear shafts into it, setting stone or bone points into a carved notch and wrapping the hafts with thin leather strips. Sokka let Zuko wrap the last spear dipped, showing him with gestures how to make the final intricate tucks, then gestured for him to rise.

They made their way down the beach, stretching far into the bay with a low tide, and joined other warriors foraging through the shallows. Sokka showed him how to pry shellfish from rocks exposed by the low tide and pointed out which sea plants were edible. The meal was slimy and tasted of the sea, but Zuko found it not unpleasant as he helped the warriors gather the equipment from the beach as the falling twilight made it difficult to see.

He started to turn back to the lodge, feeling sticky and exhausted but as satisfied as he had following the sparring matches, but felt a hand on his shoulder. Sokka raised his eyebrows curiously. "Tahnra. Akiak," Zuko said, and Sokka nodded.

"They good," he responded, pulling Zuko in a different direction. "Now." He pointed and said an unfamiliar word as they approached a low structure set against the trees, hides sewn together and stretched over a wooden frame. A low fire burned outside, but Sokka shuffled him inside to sit with other warriors in the dark space. As Zuko's eyes adjusted, he saw rocks piled in the center, radiating heat as a man poured water over them. Steam billowed into the air, trapped inside, and many of the men inside groaned or sighed with the heat. "_Bath_," Sokka said beside him, and Zuko nodded.

He lost track of time as stiff muscles relaxed and the men around him bantered with each other, their laughter muffled by the steam an the heat. The laughter grew into cheerful shouts when they realized that Zuko could heat the rocks without moving them to the fire outside, and he endured a round of hearty back-slapping before they settled back into the heat.

Sudden shouts roused Zuko from drowsy warmth as the other men began piling out of the bathhouse, jostling each other to be first through the door. Without thought, Zuko followed, running down the beach in a yelling hoard to jump into the water, much closer now with the rising tide. The sudden cold shocked his skin and from the shouts around him, the others' too; then one of the men or maybe all of them started splashing and it devolved into a cheerful free-for-all. Zuko hung back at first, but after someone – he _thought_ Sokka – shoved him playfully under the water, he joined in until they all moved as a mass back up the beach, grabbing discarded clothing and splitting up to creep quietly into the dark lodges.

Tahnra and Akiak were curled on his sleeping mat and Zuko lay down, careful not to disturb them as he slipped quickly into deep, satisfied sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Zuko helped load the canoes as Hakoda stood on the beach with Akiak and Tahnra. The sun was still low in the sky as they pushed the last canoe into the water, bobbing gently under its load as a warrior stood at its prow. Zuko stepped back, intending to return to the top of the beach, but Sokka stopped him. "You," he said, warmth in the tone, and he gestured to the canoe. "Go?"

Zuko stared at him for a moment, and Sokka clapped him on the back in a now-familiar gesture. "Go," he said, but Zuko looked back up to where the children stood with their grandfather, his hands on their shoulders as the little girl waved enthusiastically and Akiak watched, sucking his finger as usual. "They good," Sokka repeated, nudging him with an elbow, and Zuko lifted his foot to step into the canoe before he realized he'd made the decision to go.

Wherever it was they were going.


	8. Shanghaied

**Shanghaied**

_posted August 27, 2009_

* * *

If Tahnra had been an insatiable teacher of terrestrial vocabulary, the warriors rivaled her for their enthusiasm for maritime terminology. Within the first hour on the water, Zuko had learned the words for "paddle" as both a tool and an action, as well as more parts of the canoe than he could remember and the unique name for every position of paddler within it.

Zuko sat in what he would have called the aft starboard seat, but paddling the canoe shared little in common with rowing a longboat. The movements were short and sharp and he at first struggled to keep pace, his paddle skipping off the water or digging too deeply. Sokka sat at the stern, both steersman and coxswain, shouting at the other paddlers and offering steady comments that Zuko couldn't hear to understand.

As the morning wore on, the light mist burning off the surface of the water, Zuko finally caught the cadence, dipping his paddle in time with the others, feeling the boat move smoothly over the water beneath him. They paused to drink from skin pouches and eat a handful of food, jerky or dried fruit or some mixture of the two that Zuko gulped down ravenously, and then they resumed paddling. The other four canoes arrayed themselves in formation around the one that Zuko sat in, and as the afternoon wore on, voices rose in chants that seemed to make the strokes more powerful. Both warriors and slaves sat in the canoes, side by side as if equals, and Zuko's first harsh recollections of his delirious journey to the village faded slowly, replaced by the companionable pull of paddles towards a common destination.

They camped that night on a narrow beach, carrying the five canoes up to the high-tide line and making a hasty camp between ancient logs bleached silver by the sea. The long slope of beach provided a late meal, the paddlers pulling round spiky creatures from the shallows and showing Zuko how to scoop the soft flesh and eggs from within.

They all rose with the sun the next morning, the water nearly lapping at the canoes as the paddlers from Sokka's canoe passed around more water and dried rations, accepting Zuko within their circle. The day passed much as the one previous save with less conversation within the canoes, and Zuko wondered if the paddlers shared muscles as stiff and sore as his own. That evening, after helping to set up camp on a broad stream delta, he moved carefully through a firebending form that focused on the back and shoulders. As he closed the form with a deep exhalation, he felt warriors' eyes upon him, watching from the campfires they clustered around.

"Good," Sokka said in the Water Tribe language as he approached, followed by more words that Zuko didn't understand. The warriors sitting around the fire nodded, confirming their chieftain's assessment, and Zuko lifted his brow in query.

Sokka lifted his arm, gesturing, making a lifting motion. He repeated the word, moving as if lifting a heavy weight, and his meaning became clear: "_Strong_." Zuko nodded, and Sokka slapped the rock beside him. "_Hard_." He pointed at the fire. "_Heat_," he said, except with an unfamiliar. _Hot_, Zuko realized, as Sokka repeated "Good."

The warriors again nodded as Sokka spoke again, the movement of his hand suggesting the stalk of an animal. _Tiger_? Zuko wondered, but the naturalists had written that no tigers prowled these distant lands. He shrugged, even as the warriors agreed with Sokka, nodding and speaking to one another. Sokka pointed straight at him, intoning a single word. Zuko frowned; its sounds were harsh, unlike the other Water Tribe words he could pick from their speech, but Sokka just nodded, his expression satisfied. He repeated the word, and the paddlers fell silent for a moment, then the conversation seemed to move on.

The landscape grew harsher as they paddled the next day, mountains plunging into sea with hardly a shore between. The air chilled as well, gusting down the narrow passages between forested islands, and paddling became harder with the wind against the canoes' high prows and the floating chunks of ice that bumped along the hulls. Camp that night was on a thin spit, a narrow rocky beach stretching into the water with barely enough room for all five canoes, and Zuko shivered as he tried to sleep. He rolled onto his back, concentrating on his breathing, slipping into meditation to stoke the fires burning within him.

He woke the next morning ravenous and picked his way down the beach as the sky lightened, far above their camp. _Like a regular Water Tribesman_, he thought with irony, standing knee-deep in numbingly cold water, prying a shell from a rock and sucking down its contents. He found the idea strangely un-troubling. _You've never been accepted this way before_.

The paddlers rose soon after, joining Zuko on the beach and talking companionably as they hunted breakfast in the shallows. The warriors' voices were excited and he felt a prickle of anticipation shiver down his spine.

Rather than loading the canoes to resume paddling, the warriors examined the spears and lines, all stowed carefully inside. The eldest warrior, a grizzled man named Takuak, examined them carefully, arranging them along the seats, coils of line resting on the floor, while slaves moved around the camp, bundling blankets and gear under thick hide tarps. Sokka said a few loud words and the warriors carried their canoes down to the water, and they paddled out into the sea, the slaves left ashore calling what sounded like encouragement. The canoes moved quickly, lighter and swifter with fewer men and supplies, and Zuko knew that they neared their goal, whatever it was.

Some time later, but before the sun had reached zenith, the canoes rounded a bend in the narrow sea and Zuko nearly stopped paddling to stare at the wall of ice that greeted them, looming far ahead at the end of the channel. Cold wind gusted off it and as he watched a giant chunk of it cleave from the mass, falling with slow grace into the sea. A moment later, he heard its splash, and Sokka's command to cease paddling, his voice pitched low. Zuko followed the other warriors in stowing his paddle against the bulwarks, and they coasted silently through the chunks of ice.

One of the young warriors stood up to balance in the bow, spreading his arms and churning them through the air and to Zuko's surprise, the canoe moved forward without aid of paddles. _A waterbender_, he realized as he watched the man, his movements slow and lacking the women's grace but propelling them smoothly and silently through the water. The other canoes moved away in their own directions, each with a waterbender in the bow. _Why_… but a nudge to his ribs cut off the thought.

Zuko turned and Sokka met his eyes, pressing a finger across his own lips. "_Quiet_," he said, the meaning clear, and nodded towards the center of the canoe. The old warrior Takuak stood carefully, bracing his knees against the side and raising a spear, its barbed point glinting dully in the light. He rested the haft against his shoulder and waited, motionless, as they moved slowly through the water.

The hunter made an odd cry, like the bleat of an animal, and the waterbender at the bow stopped moving entirely, the canoe coasting slowly through the water. The warriors seated in the canoe were utterly silent and Zuko found himself holding his breath, waiting for he didn't know what.

A dark shape broke the surface next to the canoe and the hunter lunged, throwing his spear with sudden purpose. Something – a sleek animal, wide flippers and dappled fur – twisted and thrashed, disappearing under the water, but the line beside the hunter played out. The spear's wooden haft floated beside the canoe and one of the warriors retrieved it as others scrambled to pull up the line, which shifted wildly along the wooden side while the waterbender struggled to keep the canoe balanced. Bit by bit, they reeled the line in until the struggling animal emerged; Takuak reached down to strike it with a carved club and it fell limp as the hunter muttered a reverent phrase and hauled it into the canoe. Zuko pointed to the animal, raising his brow, and Sokka answered in the barest of whispers. "_Seal_."

They repeated the scene throughout the sunlit midday, long periods of silent waiting interspersed with the excitement of the harpoon thrust and the club strike. Different warriors stood to heave the harpoon, with some misses and some successes until several carcasses lay in the center of the canoe and the sun neared the facing mountain of the channel. Sokka gave the command to paddle, and Zuko joined the warriors in digging his paddle deep into the water. Triumphant shouts echoed across the water as the other canoes came into view, the cries somehow respectful and boastful at once.

They returned to the camp with daylight still left and proceeded to butcher the catch, skinning each carcass and cutting the meat into large portions, each thickly marbled with fat. Zuko helped roll the portions back into the skins, tying the bundles closed with lengths of leather cord and stowing them against a huge log long washed onto the beach. Slaves packed entrails and unrecognizable chunks away into baskets with tight-fitting lids, tying them with more cords and setting them beside the bundled skins. As they finished, one of the waterbenders crouched low, brought water up from the sea and froze it in a low shield over the mass. The smell of roasting meat washed over the camp as portions cooked over the fire, and they dined that night on the hearty, chewy meat with a rich flavor like none Zuko had ever tasted.

They hunted again the next day, packing and butchering their kill as afternoon fell, and again the day after that, until the smooth water below the walls of ice was cut by fins like knives. Sleek black forms slid through the water, whales like none Zuko had ever seen. He heard seals cry out in terror as the water was churned by massive tails and fins. "_Killers_," Sokka whispered, as he and the other warriors bowed their heads. "Our brothers." Zuko read a deep reverence without fear in their motions, and bowed his head as well. They ended the hunt early that afternoon and the evening fire was surrounded by warriors' tales of encounters with the great killer whales.

The next day, below the glaciers as the sun passed overhead, Takuak showed Zuko how to hold the spear, coaching him through the motion of aiming and throwing. He missed the first two seals but neatly spears the third and pride swelled within him at the warriors' appreciative comments. That evening, the cache of frozen meat left at the camp grew large enough for Sokka to nod with satisfaction. "Good hunt," he said as they stood beside the fallen log, evening falling around them, and Zuko nodded. "You hunt good," Sokka continued, and thumped his back in the familiar gesture.

The next day, the warriors loaded the bundles and baskets into the canoes, packing them in so tightly that Zuko's legs rested atop a basket that squished softly when he shifted. They paddled away from their hunting camp, the wind at their backs this time and some part of him understood why the Water Tribe insisted on paddling rather than relying on waterbenders; on pulling together as equals, using the strength of their muscles rather than the elemental qi control that some possessed but more did not. They paddled late into the evening and Zuko felt content despite the exhaustion, in the same foreign way that Tahnra and Akiak's laughter inspired.

The canoes reached the Water Tribe village after three long days. Full dark had long fallen as Zuko and the other paddlers pulled the canoes up to rest on the beach; they stood back as the waterbenders started to layer more ice over the bundled cargo, but then Sokka guided Zuko back to the bathhouse. The chieftain handed him one of the rocks in the center and Zuko heated his palms before the other man could ask. A pile of heated rocks sat in the middle when the rest of the paddlers arrived, and they sighed collectively as the first steam billowed into the bathhouse.

Zuko lost track of time again as the steam soothed away the journey's aches and fatigue, and he joined the other paddlers in a fast swim through the ocean following the bath before they all split off to their home lodges. Sokka clapped him on the back again as they entered the center lodge, then headed towards his own sleeping platform with a yawn.

Zuko stood still for a moment, taking in the sight of Tahnra and Akiak sprawled beside their mother, her own face relaxed and peaceful. He finally settled onto his own mat beside the woman's platform and fell asleep quickly, lulled by an odd sense of homecoming.

* * *

When Zuko woke the next morning, Tahnra and Akiak lay snuggled against him and an argument brewed in the middle of the lodge. He blinked sleepily, surprised by the amount of light in the lodge; the sun had clearly risen hours ago, without him. The woman spoke angrily to Sokka, her gestures sharp while the chieftain spread his arms, wearing an expression that clearly meant "_What_?" She scolded him again, turning sharply on her heel with a look of annoyance, but as she turned, she looked towards Zuko and their eyes met for a moment. A fast, almost furtive smile lit her face and he found himself grinning in return before she ducked her head and exited the lodge.

Zuko watched her go, his smile deepening as Tahnra woke, eyes wide with excitement before she hugged him around the middle. Akiak smiled hugely on the mat beside her, and Zuko felt contentment spread over him once again.

The tribe assembled on the beach soon after, the elders resting on lengths of silvered logs that faced the laden canoes. Sokka stood between them, and warriors handed wrapped bundles of meat down to him. He seemed to call out names, or families, handing the women who stepped forward a bundle or a basket or several bundles. Each woman nodded or bowed in thanks before stepping away and Zuko realized with sudden cold clarity that it was the slave auction again, pieces of meat distributed to warriors' families, wealth earned by the men for their wives and sisters and grandmothers and families.

The woman stepped forward and Sokka handed her a huge bundle; she gestured at Zuko to take it from her without looking at him. Numbly, he took the portion, and the two after it, realizing that his portion of the hunt was not, actually, _his_, but instead belonged to this woman who thought she owned him. Who this tribe, these warriors who had seemed to accept him as an equal, thought owned him.

Later, as the women cut the meat into strips to cure over a fire, Zuko felt comfort displaced by cold as Tahnra scrambled possessively into his lap. _Slave_, the woman's voice echoed in his memory, drowning the child's happy words and chilling him despite the warmth of spring in the air.


	9. Visited

**Visited**

_posted August 31, 2009_

* * *

The days following the seal hunt were so filled with activity that Zuko had little time to brood. A feeling of readying for something momentous filled the air as the solstice neared, the daylight providing more hours for work. Butchering and preserving the seal meat had seemed to start a revolution of preparation; the women scraped the new hides, tanning them in a mixture of the entrails brought back in baskets, while the men tied nets and shaped spears and checked canoes. More wooden vessels had been brought to the beach, keeping Orvik and his assistants busy, while Takuak oversaw warriors checking spears and clubs and plain wooden poles stored in the canoe pavilion. Sokka spent his energies directing the warriors and their slaves, frequently conferring with Hakoda and a cluster of older men who sat near the lodges and observed the work.

The women's work spread itself out across the beach and between the lodges and back into the trees, seemingly under the supervision of numerous women from numerous houses. The woman – mother of Akiak and Tahnra and not, Zuko thought bitterly, his _owner_ – seemed to direct the women from her lodge, collaborating frequently with another woman of similar age from another lodge who occasionally led the waterbending lessons. The two seemed to plan and dictate many of the women's activities, from delegating who watched the children to inspecting baskets brought from storage.

Zuko felt himself pulled in all directions, working at different tasks. At times, he heated pitch for Orvik; at other times, he helped stretch nets across the beach, pulling the sides tight while Sokka and other warriors inspected the work. He helped women hang hides dripping with pinkish seawater from racks high on the beach and carried baskets of dried seal meat to protected niches in the lodge. On one memorable afternoon, he sat and watched what seemed like the entire village's children, Tahnra presiding over them from Zuko's lap; at her insistence, he made fire dance through the air in shapes.

Through it all, Zuko felt the resentment born from the seal hunt tighten into shackles that weighed on him as heavy as iron. He found himself slipping frequently into a working rhythm beside warriors or benders, only to remember that his actions stemmed not from choice, but from inescapable obligation.

If Sokka clapped him on the back and included him in steam baths and spear-making, Zuko told himself it was only because a tame firebender had endless uses. If Tahnra patted his knee and Akiak slumped against him in the sleep of young children, it was because he was a novelty, a warm lap not allowed to move or complain. If at times the woman watched him with an odd expression, one that seemed to hold concern or some other unfathomable emotion, he told himself that it was the concern that a herdsman would feel over his flock.

_Wait_, he told himself again through gritted teeth. _All you can do is wait_.

For what, he didn't know.

* * *

The ship appeared on a clear morning, a week before the summer solstice by the way the sun's heat throbbed in his veins.

Zuko stared, thoughts of swimming pushed aside as he stared at the ship bobbing in the broad harbor.  
The current formed a lazy wake around its hull in the still morning, while banners hung slack over the stern. _East Earth Kingdom_, he noted absently. _Merchant house, ported in Chen Bao_. As he watched, sailors moved about the deck, lowering a launch from over its side, taking stations in the craft, and Zuko shook himself, turning back to the lodge.

When he emerged again, Sokka and Hakoda preceding him, the longboat had pulled away from the ship, heading steadily towards the shore where they stood. Hakoda squinted, hands over his brow, then spoke rapidly to Sokka. Zuko caught the words "go" and "village" and "mother," and Sokka disappeared back into the lodge.

The woman emerged next, helping the crone behind her, who was followed in turn by two of the young waterbenders who lived in this lodge, who quickly ran down the beach to other lodges. As the longboat pulled into shore, a small crowd of Water Tribe stood in a semi-circle to greet it. Women stood expectantly at the fore, the crone before them all, while Sokka and Hakoda and a handful of warriors stood respectfully to the side. Zuko positioned himself between the two groups, wary but aware of how they waited expectantly, rather than fearfully.

The scrape of a wooden hull over the mud flats captured his attention, and he turned back to the longboat. Two women sat in the bow, one tall and elegant, the other short and rough, and this rough one pitched out of the vessel as soon as it ceased moving.

She staggered a few feet up the beach as the rowers stowed their oars, finally dropping onto her knees and expelling the contents of her stomach. The assembled Water Tribe watched in silence and Zuko thought he saw the taller woman still in the longboat roll her eyes as she stepped elegantly from the longboat. The shorter one straightened and walked with determination up the shore, moving confidently over the rocks as the taller one picked her way through pebbles and cobbles.

"_This_ year," the short one muttered, her words clear on the calm morning air, and the sound of familiar speech shocked Zuko to silence. "This year will _definitely_ be the last. No more 'seafaring' for this earth girl, oh no…"

"You know Eastern Earth Kingdom?" he finally blurted, and she jerked her head up. Beside him, the Water Tribe muttered, some staring at him, others continuing to watch the two women make their way up the beach.

"Who said that?" the short one asked, cocking her head as if to listen. "Wait – you're not Water Tribe." She strode quickly to Zuko, stopping before him and holding out her hand. It stuck out oddly to his left and she didn't lift her face or meet his eyes. "I'm Toph Bei Fong, of the Chen Bao Bei Fongs."

He stared at her hand for a moment, then took it. "Zuko."

"Zuko of…?" she prompted, still not looking at him, and he realized suddenly that she was blind.

"Just… Zuko." He took his hand back, aware of the curious stares from the gathered Water Tribe and the taller woman still making her way up the beach. Toph tilted her head to the side as if scrutinizing him, then shrugged. "Whatever." She gestured with her thumb. "That's Captain Jun, master of the _Good Earth_ in the harbor there. We're here to trade." She turned to the other woman, stepping confidently across the rocks once more. "Hotness!" she yelled, followed by a chain of speech that seemed half order, half banter.

The taller woman responded in kind and Zuko strained to catch the words, but they spoke in Western Earth Kingdom; he knew a little of the language, enough to get by in its port cities, but this dialogue had a strange inflection that made them indecipherable. _North Islands dialect_? he wondered, and cursed his tutors for their focus on Ancient Earth Kingdom, useful only to clerics and naturalists, instead of more trade languages.

* * *

Later, following what Zuko recognized as stuffily formal greetings, a ceremonial meal, and the unloading of several large crates from the longboat, Toph and the woman she introduced as Captain Jun were led into the main lodge. The crone settled on her thick cushion, the woman and the other master waterbender to each of her sides. Toph and Jun sat facing them, and Zuko sat to the woman's side so that he faced Toph. The Water Tribe women had frowned when Toph had waved him into the semi-circle, but evidently chosen not to object.

Behind the Water Tribe women, brought from other houses and set down carefully by slaves, lay ornate household objects: bowls and boxes, carved and painted and set with teeth and shells; woven baskets and hats and thick blankets; masks like those the dancers wore, somehow blank and eerie without men or women inhabiting them.

The crone spoke first, spreading her arms wide, and Jun nodded. Akiak sat in the woman's lap, sucking his fingers as usual, but Tahnra sat on Zuko's other side, talking softly at him as Jun spoke haltingly in the Water Tribe language. The little girl seemed to reassure him, pointing at the masks and boxes and speaking a word that the hunters had used, murmuring over the seals piled into the canoes. "_No live_," she said, pointing again and patting his knee.

Zuko frowned and spoke quietly to Toph as Jun and the crone continued to exchange honors. "She keeps saying 'no live.' I think. What does that mean?"

"Ah." Toph nodded. "She's trying to tell you that they have no spirit."

"… No spirit."

"Right." Tahnra climbed into Zuko's lap and reached to pat Toph's arm. "When I first came to this village, they refused to trade any of their objects. Said that they're vessels for the ancestors or something. Fine, whatever." She waved her hand airily. "So I asked if they could make some _without_ spirits, and they thought about it, and when I came back the next year, they had a bunch of stuff, all made for trade – no ancestors included."

Zuko looked again at the masks resting behind the crone, the empty eyes, and suppressed a shiver as Toph continued.

"It makes them happy, it makes me happy, and we're all fine." She sighed dramatically. "They won't sell any of the old stuff, though, which is a shame." She nudged him in the ribs, nodding with her head towards where the woman sat. "You see that necklace she's wearing?"

Zuko hadn't, but he studied it now, ignoring the way the woman looked up at him for a moment. The necklace was a leather band with a circular pendant, swirling concentric shapes carved into luminescent shell. He finally nodded, and Toph continued.

"That thing is _priceless_. I've never seen one as finely made, and I could name half a dozen collectors back in the Earth Kingdom would pay me enough to retire twice over for a piece like that. But," and she sounded cheerful, rather than disappointed, "she won't part with it. It was her mother's, or maybe it has her mother's spirit in it – I don't know. It's hard to tell; Hotness here –" she gestured to Jun "– says that a lot of their words can have that double meaning, which makes it confusing. In any event, it doesn't belong to _her_; it belongs to her _family_, so even if she _wanted_ to sell it – which she doesn't – she can't, because it's not really _hers_. Got it, Sunshine?"

Zuko frowned. "…I suppose."

"Good." She punched him lightly in the arm. "Now shut up – I have trading to do."

Zuko frowned again, but refrained from pointing out that Toph had been doing all the talking.

What followed seemed like endless negotiation, slowed by Jun repeating the crone's speech to Toph and the two conferring in the North Islands language before Jun translated the answer back to the crone. Later, all of the women rose to inspect the masks and boxes, Toph and Jun examining the workmanship while the Water Tribe women pointed to particular features and all nodded appreciatively. Tahnra struggled from Zuko's lap to add her opinion, while Akiak toddled sleepily to him to take her place. They next moved to inspect the crates Toph and Jun had brought, lifting strings of glass beads and exotic shells, bundles of brightly dyed feathers, iron blades and pieces of copper and silver.

The women, tribeswoman and traders alike, seemed satisfied, bowing to one another and exchanging what seemed like formal pleasantries again. "Chen Bao, here I come," he heard Toph mutter under her breath, but her face remained impassive as she turned to speak with Jun. The crone settled herself back on her cushion, taking up her spindle as the two master waterbenders directed slaves waiting in the lodge to begin moving the objects outside.

Zuko rose to his feet, shifting Akiak in his arms, and the woman looked at him, lifting her brows and gesturing to the largest mask. Seeing the question, rather than a command, Zuko nodded, and she moved forward to take Akiak from him. Her hand brushed his arm for a moment, then she stepped back and nodded before turning to the other waterbender. The two of them seemed to discuss the contents of the crates as Zuko picked up the mask, following Jun and Toph from the lodge.

"Put it there for now," Toph said, gesturing to a sweep of large pebbles above the high tide line on the beach. "Jun's calling for the other longboat to bring crates." Zuko set the mask down carefully, mindful of its delicate feather crests, and turned back to the lodge. He carried the largest of the boxes out next, placing it beside the mask; he straightened to see another boat lowered into the water from the ship. Jun and Toph stood at the top of the beach, Jun looking out over the water and Toph seeming to stare at the ground in front of her, and Zuko knew that this was his chance – what he was _waiting_ for – and he had to take it.

"When you leave," he started, and Toph tilted her head as if listening while Jun watched with eyes narrowed, her face uncomprehending. "Will you… Can I join you?"

Toph's head flew up, her sightless eyes wide. "Are you _kidding_?" Her tone was incredulous, almost mocking. "Theft is serious in the Water Tribes! If they didn't kill me on the spot, they'd _blacklist _me and I'd lose all the trade networks I've built out here!"

A last, desperate thought occurred to him and Zuko spoke again before he realized his intention to do so.

"Well… will you _buy_ me, then?"


	10. Bargained

**Bargained**

_posted September 4, 2009_

* * *

Zuko's words seemed to hang in the air as Toph studied him, her empty eyes seeming to see right through him. Finally, she shrugged and turned to Jun.

As they spoke, the woman emerged from the lodge, still carrying Akiak. The woman bundled him into Zuko's arms as he stood numbly, watching Toph and Jun as anxiety threatened to overwhelm him. She started to move towards the longboats, then stopped as Jun called out to her. The captain gestured at Zuko and then at the ship still floating in the harbor, a question in her voice.

The woman lifted an eyebrow in surprise, glancing at Zuko as Jun spoke another sentence; she flushed slightly, then started talking rapidly. She pointed at Zuko, at his arm, then spread her arms wide and narrowed them as Jun frowned in concentration. The woman pointed at Akiak and Tahnra, then at Zuko again; he heard the word "Sokka" several times, as well as the words for "fire" and "slave" and "canoe" and "mother" and "water" and "blood," then the odd word that Sokka had intoned around a campfire buffeted by glacial winds. She repeated the word and threw up her arms, rolling her eyes as Jun nodded, then continued, gesturing between Zuko and the beach.

The woman's voice didn't waiver as Tahnra skipped up, trying to catch her hand and, failing that, tugging on her skirt. The woman patted her head absently as she kept talking and Tahnra scowled for a moment before coming to stand by Zuko, slipping her hand into his.

"Isn't _that_ cute," Toph muttered as Tahnra leaned forward to poke a bit of sea wrack lying on the beach.

"Aren't you blind?" Zuko hissed, but Toph just smirked as the woman continued.

Finally, she shrugged, folding her arms across her chest as Jun asked another question and she shrugged again in response. Her eyes slid sideways to Zuko with a minute lift of her brow, a faint frown on her lips; he returned the look as sick anticipation settled in his stomach.

He knew the answer even as Jun turned back to Toph, shrugged as the woman had, and said a short sentence. _At least I'll know why_, he thought. Toph replied, her tone a query, and Jun shrugged again.

Toph finally turned back to Zuko, her face expressionless. "Sorry – seems you're bound up in some sort of honor debt."

Zuko stared at her as Tahnra released his hand, crouching on the beach to better see whatever had caught her attention. "Surely there's more to it than _that_," he finally said.

Toph shrugged. "Probably. That's all that _matters_, though. These folks take honor debts seriously, and I don't get involved in those fights. They are _way_ too much fuss to be worth the profit." She snorted. "No matter how much you might have waiting for me in the Fire Nation."

Without warning, she punched him in the arm and Zuko raised his hand defensively, moving to protect Akiak before he realized he intended to do so. "Cheer up, Sunshine – it could be worse."

He glared at her, but she had already turned away to speak with Jun. The woman turned back to the longboat, shouting at the slaves beginning to load masks into it.

Tahnra pulled his arm, gesturing at something in the tidal line as Akiak suddenly squirmed. "_Down_," he said clearly, and Zuko set him down. Conflicting emotions tumbled through his mind like the waves that had swept the beach as he followed the two children along the high tide line.

* * *

Toph and Jun seemed to be guests of honor at that evening's meal, served around blazing fires in the clearing that had hosted the slave auction. Most of the tribe seemed to attend, bringing fresh seal meat and fish, preserved berries and starchy tubers, new greens and sea weeds for a generous late spring feast. The dancing and drumming stretched late into the evening, but Akiak had, for once, fallen asleep on the woman's lap, allowing Zuko to watching his own small fire dance just above the high tide line, away from the Water Tribe.

Heavy footsteps detached themselves from the celebration behind him, and Toph flopped down beside Zuko's fire. "You're brooding," she said. "I'm flattered that you wanted to be my slave that badly."

Zuko snorted. "I would have bought myself back from you at the first port with a bank."

"Cheer up, Sunshine. It could be worse."

"You already said that."

"So? It's true." She pulled a bottle from beside her, opened it, and poured some into a battered tin cup. She took a sip, then smacked her lips appreciatively. "Now _that_'s what I'm talking about." She offered the cup to Zuko. "Want some?"

He shrugged and took it, took a sip and savored the almost-forgotten burn. "I wouldn't have guessed you were a brandy woman."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have guessed you were a _nanny_."

Zuko gave her a sour look as he took another drink. He exhaled deeply, flame escaping from between his teeth.

Toph made a face. "You just breathed fire, didn't you."

Zuko sipped again. "… maybe."

"You damned firebender."

"Says the _pirate_."

"You wound me, sir." Toph held up her hand, which held a second cup. "I am but a simple businesswoman, driven only by my desire to provide my financiers back in the Earth Kingdom with some meager profit in exchange for their continued support." She paused and Zuko remembered briefly when his life had been governed by concern for distant financiers, by schedules and routes and networks. Then Toph grinned wickedly. "Of course, _privateering_ is quite profitable these days, what with the Northern Earth Queen's decree."

Zuko snorted. "Right."

"Give me back my cup."

Zuko sipped at his brandy. "No." They sat in companionable silence for a time, and Zuko felt lassitude spread through his limbs. He exhaled flame again, measuring his breath so that it flickered out in a fine stream.

"You know…" Toph started, and he looked sideways at her. "Just because the Water Tribe owns you, doesn't make you a slave the way you and I think of it."

He stared into the fire as she continued, idly twirling his fingers to make the flames dance.

"I may not know the language, but I know business and profit and ownership, and the way these people think of ownership is completely different than how you and I think of it." She poured more brandy into her cup. "Heck, the way they think of _property_ is different. Did you know that they pass everything through the female line? So even if a man gets something, it belongs to his wife's family. Or his sister's family." Toph gestured with her cup, waving it through the air as Zuko ducked. "Totally different! It makes trading difficult for _men_, because they always want to talk to 'The Chief,' but then _he_ goes and talks to his _mother_!" She snorted.

Zuko spoke before he thought. "Well, _my _property went to my _owner_." He spat the word sarcastically and the flames jumped briefly, but Toph perked up with interest.

"Oh? What happened?" She waited expectantly, then handed him the bottle.

He looked at it for a moment, then took it with a sigh, refilled his cup and sipped again, sighed flame again. "I went on a seal hunt," he finally muttered. "When we got back, the warriors stood on the beach and gave away the catch. My portion went to that woman." The memory still burned and he drank again to distract himself.

Toph stared at her feet for a moment, then started laughing, loud and raucous. Zuko frowned. She continued to laugh, raising a hand to point at him.

"They weren't treating you like her _slave,_" she said. "They were treating you like her _husband_."

Zuko frowned, the words not fitting together in his blurred mind, as Toph laughed harder.

"Slaves don't usually _get_ a share," she said, gasping for breath. "If _you_ got a share, that went to your _woman_…" she trailed off, pointing again. "You –" she started, but she fell to her side, still laughing.

Zuko felt his frown deepen. He set his cup down carefully.

"Maybe you _don't_ have it so bad, Sunshine."

Zuko stared into the fire, brows drawn together. The woman's odd blushes swam into his memory, her fierce arguments with Sokka... he felt his own face flush in response as Toph's words sunk in. "_Slave,_" the woman hissed in his memory, and he pushed the idea away.

"They still think of me as a _slave_," he finally muttered, "even if it's to her…" he couldn't bring himself to say the word _bed_. "It's not _freedom_."

Toph poked him in the chest, her aim somehow unerring. "So tell me, then, what would you do if you _were_ free? Have you thought about that?"

"I'd figure something out."

"I'm sure you would. But what would you _do_? Why is it so important? You may frown all the time – I can tell, you know – but I think you're happier than you think. But whatever." She poked him in the chest again. "What would you do, right now, if you were 'free'?"

The brandy's warmth let the memories surface unbidden, unwanted. His father's rage, his sister's vow to eliminate her "rival," his mother… _Face it, Zuko_, he thought with a sudden drunken clarity. _You were exiled, put out of the way on a fool's journey_.

"I don't know," he finally said.

"Then does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Fair enough. But does it matter as much as you think?"

A second vehement "yes" hovered on his tongue, but the brandy's clarity slowed his speech and he _thought_ about her question for a long moment, how Sokka hadn't received a portion of seal, either, and the bundles the woman accepted had seemed awfully large for Zuko's one catch… He pushed the thought away, only to have it replaced with Tahnra's happy laughter, the way she named flowers and bugs, the way Akiak slept trustingly on his lap. He shook his head to clear it and the fire blurred in his vision as the world seemed to turn around him.

Zuko handed the cup back to Toph, working too hard to keep it steady. "I think I've had enough."

Toph punched him on the arm and the brandy spilled onto the rocks. "Give 'em a chance, Sunshine." She slouched down, seeming to watch the fire, or the sea beyond it. "Maybe you didn't choose to be here, but you can choose what you make of it."

He contemplated her words, but decided that the phrase sounded trite in Eastern Earth Kingdom. He mentally translated it into High Fire Nation; the sharper sounds definitely suited the way the idea stuck in his mind, painful and inescapable, and –

A hand fell on his shoulder and Zuko lurched forward, fists blazing, before he heard Sokka's easy laughter. The chieftain flopped down next to him, draping an arm Zuko's shoulder and gesturing at Toph's cup.

Toph handed it to him, a sour expression on her face. "This had better not end like last time," she muttered, and Zuko took the opportunity to slip out from beneath Sokka's arm, settling a few feet away. The chieftain coughed loudly, handing the cup back to Toph and thumping his chest appreciatively.

Zuko watched them for a moment, then leaned back against the driftwood that bordered the beach. The stars spun lazily in the sky as he reflected briefly that none of his _friends _had ever showed him the affection that Sokka did.


	11. Traded

**Traded**

_posted September 6, 2009_

* * *

The _Good Earth_ bobbed lazily in the afternoon swells, her wooden deck rocking in a way Zuko found soothingly familiar. He watched over the bulwarks as the Water Tribe continued their preparation on the beach, the warriors still checking canoes and nets while women carried oddly-shaped bundles and baskets to sit beside them. The seal hides seemed all tanned and the preparations nearly complete, though Zuko still wondered what the tribe prepared for. The nearing solstice burned in his blood despite the thin clouds obscuring the sun, a few days away at most.

Toph's voice interrupted his contemplation. "Coming, Sunshine?"

Zuko turned away from the bulwarks as Jun and the woman disappeared through a narrow doorway into the aft cabin. "I still don't know why you wanted me to come along."

Toph grinned, waving for him to precede her into the cabin. "Don't you want to see my ship? A little slice of the old countries, just for you?"

"Whatever."

The Water Tribe's carved masks and boxes lay along one side of the cabin, lashed in place with a webbing of ropes that the woman crouched to inspect. She conversed briefly with Jun, then tugged at the ropes and frowned.

"Hang on – I need to go check on something," Toph said, stomping around him and through another doorway leading aft. Zuko sighed and leaned back against the wall, looking around the cabin as Jun and the woman ignored him and adjusted the knots. The cabin's opposite wall held a similar cargo, ornate spears and shields and statuettes painted in greens and blues, carefully secured for the journey back to Chen Bao.

Bored, Zuko sighed again and looked towards the nearest port light, but unexpected movement caught his eye; he glanced up to see his face in a mirror, the angle such that it almost hid the scar. His father stared back, gaunt cheeks and yellow eyes and thin beard, and he shuddered before deliberately turning away.

"Toph?" he called. "Do you think that you can add a razor to the payment?"

"What's that?" she responded, her voice muffled, and Zuko stepped through the doorway, following her voice into a narrow companionway.

"Do you have a razor?" he asked.

"Getting a little scruffy, are we?"

"Something like that," he muttered.

"What?" she called. "Come in here."

Her voice came from a narrow doorway and he stepped into a spacious cabin crammed with more objects that Zuko vaguely recognized, spears and shields and baskets and statues; he remembered a distant study, red drapes and upholstery overshadowed by the clutter of keepsakes and trinkets from around the world. He fought a sudden, intense wave of loneliness, but then a gleam caught his eye and he turned to stare.

"These are mine!" he exclaimed, pulling the matched pair of swords from the wall, their sheath slung beneath them. The worn leather grips fit his hands perfectly and excitement returned the loneliness to the back of his mind.

Toph's head popped up from behind a short desk, a frown stretched across her face. "Easy, Sunshine, don't get hasty – we aren't finished yet."

"No... " Zuko set the swords reluctantly on the desk and took a step backwards, folding his hands. "I mean, these _are_ mine… they used to be – where did you get them?"

"I found them."

Zuko suppressed a snort of disbelief. "How much do you want for them?" he asked instead.

She named a price and Zuko winced.

"Take it or leave it, Sunshine – those aren't some razors that I'd just give away."

Zuko thought hard, options stretching before him, but he realized he had decided the moment he saw them. "Do you stop at Chang Ye Shen on your way back to Chen Bao?" he asked.

"Yeah. So?"

"When you're there, go to the Jasmine Dragon. It's a –"

"I'm familiar with the establishment."

"Oh. Well." Her expression held no clue to her opinion, and Zuko said a quick prayer to the goddess of good fortune. "Go to the proprietor and tell him about... this. These." He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and continued. "Tell him that I'm trying not to give up without a fight. He'll make sure that you're paid the full value. Whatever you ask."

Toph frowned and Zuko held his breath. "So you're one of Iroh's," she said thoughtfully. Finally, she shrugged. "It's a deal." She pushed the swords roughly across the desk at him and Zuko tried not to wince as the sheath bumped one of the steel blades. "I'll go dig up a razor for you, too."

* * *

When he returned to the main cabin, the woman looked briefly at the swords and shrugged, clearly more concerned with the how the masks were secured. She waved her hand absently and Zuko heard "Sokka" in her muttered words. He slung the sheath across his back and the familiar weight made him relax just a little as the woman and Jun continued to adjust the ropes.

"She's always like this," Toph said, emerging from the companionway behind him. "Fussy. Total _mom_." Zuko just shrugged.

When they finally emerged onto the deck again, after the woman had stood back and nodded and said "Good," in a tone that Zuko thought carried the weight of "good _enough_," sailors scrambled back and forth across the deck, preparing the ship for sailing. The woman and Jun bowed low to each other, then she bowed to Toph, surprising Zuko by ruffling her hair affectionately. Toph scowled and pushed her away, but her face remained flushed as she turned to Zuko.

"Nice meeting you, Sunshine." She punched him in the arm again. "Maybe I'll see you next year."

"Toph…" The words seemed lodged in his throat and Zuko swallowed hard before continuing. "Thank you. For –"

She cut him off. "Don't worry about it. You can consider it payment to an old friend."

Zuko frowned, but she was already turning to bark orders at the sailors aloft in the rigging.

Two burly sailors rowed Zuko and the woman back to shore in the longboat, gesturing hastily at them to step onto the beach. As the sailors rowed out into the bay, the _Good Earth_'s mainsail raised in time to a distant chant, the canvas flapping gently in the rising breeze as the ship faced windward. Zuko and the woman stood on the beach, watching it in silence for a long moment. Toph's voice echoed in his memory. _Give 'em a chance, Sunshine,_ and he looked sideways at the woman. Her face seemed relaxed as she watched the scene before, her hand moving in a gentle circle as the ship moved slowly into the current, and he realized that she was assisting it into the channel's steady winds.

Zuko opened his mouth, not knowing what he was going to say, when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder; he jumped, closing his fists against the fire that sprang from his palms at the surprise, and heard Sokka laugh beside him. The woman, too, gave her brother a sour look, and turned to walk up the beach, muttering under her breath as Sokka gestured to Zuko. "New," he said, pointing at the swords, and Zuko unslung them. Sokka nodded appreciatively and said a few careful words. "Give," he said clearly, and Zuko reluctantly set them in his hand. _Give 'em a chance, Sunshine_.

Sokka pulled the swords partially from the sheath, examining them. "Yours," he said firmly, then spoke a quick sentence. Zuko recognized only the word "_mother_" but something in his tone seemed reassuring. "Come," he said, and walked briskly down the beach as Zuko followed.

Hakoda stood at the high tide line, overseeing a team of warriors pack wooden poles into a canoe; Sokka strode up to him, holding out the swords and speaking while gesturing to Zuko, to the _Good Earth_ retreating towards the horizon, and back to Zuko. Hakoda nodded, then spoke loudly to the warriors, and he turned with Sokka towards the lodge, gesturing for Zuko to follow.

Inside, the crone sat near her sleeping platform, a rough loom before her. Sokka gestured at Zuko to kneel on the platform in front of her, which he reluctantly did as the crone turned towards them, a shuttle of thick yarn in her hand. Sokka set the swords before her, accompanied by a flurry of explanation; Zuko caught the words for "slave" and "canoe" – or maybe it meant "ship" – and a word that they had used around Toph. _Trader_, he decided, as Hakoda added a sentence that sounded like support.

The crone listened to them solemnly, the wrinkles in her face creating a perpetual frown that Zuko couldn't read. Finally, Sokka fell silent and Zuko held his breath as the crone touched the handles, the sheath, slid the blades out a few inches to examine the metal. She said something sharp to Sokka, who pulled them the rest of the way out and separated them to hold one before the crone for inspection. Zuko flinched at his grip, all wrong and far too heavy on the handle, but held himself still as Sokka turned the blade this way and that as the crone watched, suspicion in her eyes. She waved her hand irritably and Sokka sheathed the blades again. She spoke to Sokka, who nodded furiously, then to Hakoda, who tipped his head somberly. Finally she raised both of her hands and dropped them to her lap with a huff and an irritated word. Zuko blinked, trying to keep surprise from his expression.

Sokka and Hakoda bowed respectfully to the crone and Zuko hastily followed their action, dipping his forehead almost to the planked floor before bobbing back up. The crone watched him, irritation or maybe just resignation painted in the creases of her forehead, then turned back to her weaving. Sokka and Hakoda dipped their heads again, then pulled Zuko away.

Once outside the lodge, Hakoda took the sheathed swords from Sokka and held them out to Zuko, a somber expression on his face. Zuko took them, restraining his eagerness as Hakoda held his eyes and spoke softly and firmly, the meaning clear. "_I'm trusting you_." Zuko nodded slowly, tipping his head back carefully, and Hakoda tipped his own head once before turning and making his way down the beach back to the canoes.

Sokka slapped him on the back, laughing. "Good," he said, followed by words that included "mother" and "give" and "yours." He gestured at the swords, then spoke carefully. "You show, tomorrow?"

Zuko could only nod. Sokka slapped him on the back again, and as he strode down the beach, Zuko squeezed his eyes shut. _Thank you, Toph_, he thought.


	12. Fought

**Fought**

_posted September 10, 2009_

* * *

Sokka seemed eager for the sword demonstration, meeting him before the lodge as Zuko returned from his morning swim and firebending. "You show, now?" he asked, and Zuko nodded. Sokka thumped his shoulder and talked excitedly, his interest clear as his words were not.

They reached the clearing where the waterbending women had spent afternoons in practice before the spell of preparation; now a small group of warriors waited, calling out to Sokka as they approached. Zuko strained to catch the words, mostly "show" and "morning" and the odd word that they seemed to refer to him with, too many "l" and "k" sounds for him to decipher.

Sokka thumped his back again, then trotted over to an assortment of weapons. Zuko saw long iron daggers and halberds, sturdy clubs with teeth or shells set into the heads, but nothing that quite resembled a _sword_. "Do you really want to do this?" he asked Sokka in his own tongue, anticipating the chieftain's easy grin.

Sokka motioned him over, pointed at the swords slung across his back. "Out?" he asked, and Zuko slid them from the sheath, separating them in a fluid motion. Sokka held out his hand, saying a short sentence with the upturn of inquiry; Zuko interpreted it as "May I?" and nodded, placing the sword into his grasp.

Sokka nodded in thanks and tested the blade, touching it carefully and then scraping it across his thumbnail; he whistled appreciatively and handed it back to Zuko. He spoke quickly with the other warriors, gesturing at the weapons before him, and they conferred. Zuko heard the muttered words for "hard" and "sharp" and "no;" Sokka finally selected a dagger and a club and stood, facing him.

Zuko sank into an opening sword stance, knees bent and loose, while Sokka crouched; the warriors around them counted down and called "start" together. Sokka launched himself forward, swiping with the dagger and the club; Zuko dodged easily and slapped Sokka against the back with the flat of one sword. The chieftain tumbled face-first into the ground and rose quickly; his face flushed under the howls of laughter from the watching warriors. "Quiet!" he barked, then resumed his crouch.

His next strike held more calculation and Zuko danced back out of the way; they swiped and parried, dodging around each other. Their fighting styles were all wrong, with Zuko using fast strokes that rarely connected and Sokka using strength and the heft of his club. It was nothing like sparring with the woman and the other waterbenders; he remembered long ago words, spoken after his first defeat at the hands of an earthbender. _Bending is a universal language, nephew, even with different elements_.

_Now I know what you mean_, Zuko thought, dodging another blow. As Sokka's momentum carried him forward, Zuko swing his fist down, knocking Sokka in the chest with the sword's hilt. The chieftain skidded backwards, landing finally on his hands, and he laughed sheepishly.

Zuko reached down, offering Sokka his hand; he accepted the help and squared his shoulders as he stood, clearly ready to try again, but Takuak the hunter stepped forward, nodding at Zuko. Sokka seemed relieved to take the role of spectator as Takuak settled into a ready stance.

The older man's posture showed confidence, the ease of long experience behind him, and Zuko sized him up as they waited for the count. He held a plain iron knife in one hand and a short spear in the other, but his grip was steady and Zuko knew that this would be a good fight for them both. He relaxed his own grip, twirling the swords lightly as the countdown ended; he attacked quickly, testing Takuak's defense but the hunter easily deflected the blow and countered with one of his own. He nodded appreciatively when Zuko blocked it and they circled each other for a moment.

The weapons and rules differed from those in Zuko's experience, but the intent remained clear: matching skills with a fellow warrior. Takuak jabbed at him with the spear, then turned on his heel as Zuko countered with swords. The hunter blocked each slice neatly with his dagger and they fell into a fighting rhythm that challenged Zuko's sword work, the formal patterns he'd long mastered. He distantly heard the other warriors hassling Sokka, the chieftain's defensive replies, but they faded to the background as the fight progressed.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he worked to avoid Takuak's deceptively simple swipes and the superior reach of his spear; he slid sideways around the knife – only to gasp in surprise as the butt of the spear caught him in the stomach. Winded, Zuko dropped to the ground and scrambled backwards, but Takuak already the edge of his knife at his throat; he looked up as the hunter considered him with a mild expression, head tipped in query.

"Stop," Zuko agreed, and Takuak nodded, stepping back then offering Zuko a hand up. He took it, settled himself on his feet and bowed, hand over fist in the formal style. The other warriors muttered among themselves, but Takuak returned the gesture, dipping his head and shoulders.

"Again!" Sokka called, and the other warriors raised their voices in agreement. Zuko grinned and stepped into position as Takuak shook his head and sighed and settled back into a fighting stance. Sokka began to count down as Zuko noted the man's posture, tried to predict his opening move with the knowledge gained from experience. He tensed, readying himself to spring forward, when a shout cut through the clearing.

Zuko saw Sokka jump guiltily as he and the other warriors turned as one to see the woman standing just beyond their circle, hands on her hips and irritation on her face. She spoke rapidly, pointing towards the beach and cutting off Sokka's protests with angry gestures. He finally raised his hands in a placating way and she watched him skeptically, one eyebrow raised, and turned her gaze to the rest of the assembled warriors, glaring at them. When her eyes met Zuko's, her expression changed subtly but he couldn't read the emotion there. She looked back to Sokka, snapping at him again, then turned with a huff and walked away.

One of the warriors elbowed Sokka and made a comment, his tone mocking, and the chieftain shrugged, his expression sheepish. The assembled warriors broke ranks and started after the woman, talking quietly. A few nodded at Zuko as they passed, their looks conveying appreciation for the sparring, and he felt warmed as he fell into step beside Sokka.

The chieftain looked up, grinning. "Good fight," he said. "Now," and he sighed loftily, "We work."

* * *

Zuko rose two days later, the dawning solstice pushing him out of sleep especially early. The Water Tribe didn't stir; Tahnra lay beside her mother on the sleeping platform while Akiak curled in her arms. The sight made him suppress a smile before he picked up his swords and stepped carefully to the lodge's entrance, emerging into gray twilight outside.

The rising tide lapped up the beach and he stood for a moment at the edge, watching as the horizon lightened and changed colors, pinks and yellows displacing the grey-blue. He closed his eyes and sighed as the sun's first rays pierced the morning.

Wisps of fog hovered over the water when he emerged from his swim, the surface calm and glassy and marred only by the lines of current. He stood on the shore and let the rising sun dry the water from his body, reveling in its solstice intensity. The Fire Festivals of his childhood, with their fireworks and lanterns and parades, seemed hasty and vulgar in contrast to the simplicity of sunlight creeping down the gray-green peaks that rose from the sea.

After slipping back into his pants, Zuko chose to start with a sword form, a basic defensive pattern that worked the body's major muscle groups. The sun fully lit the opposite shore when he closed the form and breathed deeply, then set his swords aside; he threw himself into an advanced firebending form, one barely learned before during last season's departure. Memories of a long-ago day drifted through his mind with the form, that dawn when he first felt the tingle of flame in his fingers, and he tried to channel its joy into his dance along the rocks with fire in his hands and soul.

The sun continued its long journey across the sky as Zuko finished, returning to his original position on the beach and closing the stance; he breathed heavily and wiped sweat from his brow as he turned towards his swords.

The woman stood on the beach, watching him, her expression closed but showing interest rather than hostility. Unsurprised, Zuko tipped his head at her and she nodded in return and slipped into a bending stance, a challenge in the tilt of her head.

Zuko shook his head, then nodded towards the sun. "Not today." He struggled to explain, how to put into his limited Water Tribe words the power that he could feel throbbing through his body. "Sun strong. Long day." Her eyes widened in understanding.

She lifted her hand to point over his shoulder, the opposite side of the bay from the sun. Zuko turned to see the moon nearly full and hovering low in the sky, and he understood; her power was tied to the moon in the way that his was tied to the sun.

Still. A setting mostly-full moon couldn't compete with the summer solstice. He shook his head again, but she tilted her head and watched him, a smirk on her face. "Strong?" she asked, her tone mocking, then said a short phrase that Zuko knew meant "_prove it_."

He felt his lips curve in answer, and gestured towards the water. "Fine," he said in his own tongue. "But you'll need that advantage." She ignored the comment and he was tempted for a moment to humor her, to use the solstice's power to overwhelm her and prove that he could _not_ be controlled as easily as she thought, but his desire for a fair fight eclipsed that urge. He shook his head and waded into the sea. The cold slid around his ankles, lapped at his calves, and he breathed deeply, allowing fire to escape with his breath to show how little it affected him today.

She nodded, the reached to her waist and unwrapped her long skirt, tossing it up the beach before he thought to look away; to his relief, she wore short leggings beneath. She tightened the belt around her tunic as she waded into the water and they faced each other for a moment over the lapping waves. Zuko felt the sun at his back and in his blood, felt the push and pull of the water around his legs and saw its power echoed in the woman's stance, then she called softly but firmly "_Start_," and Zuko leapt from the water as it began to wind around his legs.

He flipped lightly through the air, bringing fire to arc from his hands and heard the hiss of it hitting water; he landed behind the woman, sending a whirlwind of flame at her. She turned just in time and raised a curtain of water that deflected it while the water rose again around his feet.

He jumped, dodging the tendrils that reached for him, weaving and ducking as he had during the sword form, kicking and swinging flame at her in return. The woman twisted and leaned, avoiding the flame while summoning greater quantities of water to lash at him as he spun around her, landing lightly on feet and hands. A thin tendril that smelled like the sea broke over his head and Zuko laughed aloud as he steamed it away, sent fire to curl around her, forcing her farther into the water. She raised her hands but Zuko brought his own down before her, the force of the fire flattening the waves before they could follow her. He surrounded her with fire, careful not to _burn_ while also careful not to create an opening – but then she vanished under the water.

Zuko let the flames die as he scanned the surface; her head finally broke the water's surface farther out into the bay. She rose into the air, supported by the sea around her, and threw her hands forward.

Water followed the motion and Zuko let the surging wave carry him into the air as well. The woman exhaled deeply, cold mist roiling from her mouth to freeze the water's surface; the ice creaked as it spread, racing towards him. He brought his own hands down and the arcs of fire helped propel him out of the water just before it froze solid around him; he flipped through the air and landed on the ice. The cold burned through the calluses on his feet as he dodged the water she sent streaming around him; he kicked fire in return, calling it up in sheets, trapping her between walls of flame. The ice grew slick and shiny as it melted, and Zuko advanced slowly towards the woman and let the flames leap higher, reaching for the sun above.

The woman stood her ground, head held high as he approached, expression proud even as sweat beaded on her forehead. She lifted her chin and Zuko ignored the cold beneath his feet as he stopped an arm's length before her. The flames closed over their heads, a tunnel of fire, and he considered how to declare his victory when the woman dropped her hands.

The ice opened and she slipped into the water and Zuko threw himself backwards as the glacier beneath his feet fractured. A wave surged where he had stood and he leapt smoothly from one ice floe to the next, avoiding the foaming crests that reached for his feet. The wave rose impossibly tall, the woman riding its crest with her hands outstretched, and Zuko used the strength of the sun to leap up its surface, barely touching the floating ice. Fire burned in his hands and from his legs and assisted him up the wave; he lunged forward as it began to fall away.

The fires gave him momentum and the woman's face betrayed surprise as he surged towards her, grabbed her wrists and pushed her backwards. He forced her arms out to the sides and the water followed the motion, peeling away in shimmering walls as they fell heavily together to the muddy seafloor. The damp around them steamed away under the sun's force as Zuko felt the woman breathe beneath him, their bodies flush against each other and faces a handspan apart.

Her vivid blue eyes still held surprise and for a moment Zuko just watched, intrigued by her expression, the way she relaxed beneath him, her wrists falling loose in his grasp – but then she smirked as the water, too, relaxed and the world turned blue-green and icy cold as waves collapsed in on them.

She slithered away as the water swept Zuko backwards; he tumbled for a moment then kicked off from the muddy seafloor, pulling himself towards the sun above. He broke the surface with a gasp; the woman surfaced beside him a moment later as he pushed his hair out of his eyes and they stared at each other again, a broad smile lighting the woman's face.

A commotion on the beach drew their attention; Tahnra stood on an immense log bleached white by the sea, waving her hands and calling to them. The woman laughed, clear and warm on the morning air, and ducked under the water like a porpoise, swimming under the surface towards the shore. Zuko followed at a more leisurely stroke and Tahnra met them as they waded from the water. She chattered happily as Zuko steamed himself dry and the woman bent water from her hair and tunic away and into the sea, and he caught the words for "today" and "canoe" and a word that the warriors had used during the seal hunting trip.

The woman smiled at her. "Tomorrow," she said clearly, and they walked up the beach together.

* * *

The long solstice afternoon was a frenzy of last-minute preparation as the Water Tribe packed bundles and baskets and poles and spears and odds and ends into the canoes. Along the beach, other lodges readied their own canoes, small fleets that lay on the tideline before the great houses. Sokka and the woman seemed to oversee their lodge's activities, following directions from Hakoda and the crone and conversing often with the master waterbender from a different house, the other woman who had attended the crone to negotiate with Toph.

Zuko carried cargo down the beach, walking in company with other warriors and women who handed it off to others standing in the canoes. Tahnra skipped beside him often, carrying small packages and talking constantly. When twilight fell, long and late and lingering in the way of the solstice, the canoes were packed full and the Water Tribe ate on the beach, everyone save the eldest foraging in the shallows.

Despite the busy day, sleep did not come easily that night as Zuko shifted restlessly on his sleeping mat. At first, he pushed it aside as the pulse of the solstice still echoing in his body, the sun's strength from its longest journey through the sky.

As he lay awake watching the moonlight glide across the lodge floor, though, he remembered the morning, the fierce but joyful fight with the woman. He remembered the chill of the water and the feel of her body beneath his, the sun hot on his back, the surprise in her eyes as they lay surrounded by their elements for that brief moment.

He rolled over, his thoughts too jumbled to decipher through the day's fatigue, and thought instead of firebending, mentally running through forms until his mind relaxed and finally he slept.


	13. Warned

**Warned**

_posted September 13, 2009_

* * *

They left with the ebbing tide, late in the morning after countless small delays. In addition to packing the inevitable last-minute essentials, children had to be bundled carefully into the canoes while leaving enough room for the paddlers. Zuko found himself trying to settle a struggling Akiak into a space between rolled up hides while the boy shrieked "No!" at the top of his lungs, tears running down his chubby cheeks.

At a loss, Zuko picked him back up and Akiak subsided, sniffling wetly but no longer shrieking. As Zuko considered what to do, the woman stepped up beside him. "Give," she said, followed by a sentence. _Give him to me_, Zuko thought, picking the words apart as he handed Akiak over. The woman nodded, then pointed at the canoe. "In."

Zuko raised his brow skeptically, but she nodded again; he shrugged and sat in the canoe, hearing it creak as it settled into the rocks. The woman whispered to Akiak, pointing at Zuko and the boy raised his head to consider him, still sniffling. He finally nodded and the woman smiled brilliantly, hugging him close and then setting him into the canoe. Zuko held his breath, but Akiak remained calm, turning to look at him with eyes still puffy from crying. "Good," Zuko said tentatively, and the boy looked away quickly.

Zuko shrugged again and looked at the woman. "Can I get out now?" he asked, and she tilted her head. "Out?" he repeated in the Water Tribe tongue, and she nodded.

Soon, children and elders sat waiting in the canoes while warriors and waterbenders steadied it. Others of the Water Tribe stepped in carefully as well, mothers and craftsmen and slaves, and finally the woman nodded Zuko and the warriors into the canoe. Zuko settled into the seat behind Akiak and the boy turned to smile quickly at him.

The woman and a handful of waterbenders stood on the beach together and sank into bending stances; they reached towards the sea and back up the beach and _pulled_ the waves up to meet the canoes. The vessels floated easily and the women walked down the beach with hands raised, guiding them into the sea before scrambling aboard and taking up paddles as well.

Zuko looked down the bay as they turned the canoe slowly; the morning's activities were repeated in front of other lodges as they, too, prepared to depart. Their own small fleet consisted of seven canoes, filled both with members of the woman's lodge and clusters of people he distantly recognized. Shouts erupted around him as the Water Tribe called to their brethren still packing, tinged with "goodbye" and "good luck" to his ear.

As they moved smoothly from the bay, Zuko wondered about their destination, for surely this was no warriors' hunt.

* * *

The next days indeed proved very different from the fast pace and short nights of the seal hunt. It seemed to Zuko that the paddlers had just reached an even rhythm when they pulled into a broad cove and made camp for the night. He helped sling wide tarps made of scraped hides into long tents, arranged this way and that on a grassy slope, while women cooked and elders sat stiffly around a campfire and children played on the beach.

They set off the next morning long after Zuko emerged from his morning swim – though respectably earlier than the previous day – and the paddlers' rhythm seemed stronger, more lively. The landscape stayed both constant and ever-changing; forested slopes plunging into the sea, tiny islands like jewels against the blue-green water, rocky slopes and cobbled beaches. Camp that night was in a narrow isthmus cut between two towering islands, the tents barely fitting in the strip between beaches.

They paddled for five days, each seeming easier and more relaxed than the last. Akiak remained content after his initial outburst and Tahnra seemed in her element, watching the water skim by the canoe. Zuko saw her dip small fingers into the ripples that spread from the bow and idly wondered if she would soon bend the water just as easily. The other children seemed just as content – or at least just as quiet – and Zuko found himself enjoying the voyage.

Late in the afternoon of the sixth day since leaving the village, the small fleet of canoes rounded an island's gentle curve and Tahnra stood to shriek with excitement. The woman shushed her but wore a smile as well and around them the Water Tribe talked quickly, joy and anticipation in their voices.

* * *

The waterbenders lifted the canoes onto rock sculpted by waves, dark grey and ridged like the skin of a giant lizard, an outcropping that stretched far into a wide bay. As he stepped out of the canoe with the other warriors, water still draining away around his feet, Zuko noticed rough structures on the bluff above, a wide firepit below. _A village_? he wondered, but it seemed crude in comparison to the village they had paddled from.

All who had made the voyage worked to unload the canoes, the usual divisions of mothers and warriors, craftsmen and waterbenders seemingly forgotten as they carried bundles and packages from the rocks into the camp. Later, they split back into small groups, with women setting up housekeeping while warriors tended to the canoes, but the rigid gender divisions of the village seemed relaxed.

The structures turned out to be open-air pavilions with planked roofs; a handful of women tied the long hide tarps to the frames and rolled them up to the rafters, then spread mats and blankets on the rough wooden floors. Men and waterbenders worked together to secure the canoes on the rocks, turning them over and stowing the paddles beneath. Children ran about in packs, both helping and hindering the adults' work.

They gathered dinner from the beach that night, bringing shellfish to a campfire where they were steamed and boiled and stewed with dried meat and fish to produce a surprising number of simple dishes. The meal lacked the formality of those taken in the lodge, with the Water Tribe seeming to relax and converse in a way that Zuko hadn't seen before.

The woman looked downright _happy_, sitting next to the other master waterbender who seemed to lead those not from the woman's house. Side by side, Zuko suddenly noticed the resemblance, the similar cut of features and curl of hair, they way they seemed to giggle together like young girls. _Cousins_? he wondered, as Sokka plunked down next to him. The chieftain called across the fire, evidently continuing a conversation, and was answered by laughter. Grinning, he thumped Zuko on the shoulder. "Good," he said happily, and leaned back.

Zuko felt restlessness suddenly consume him, the weight of the unknown pressing down. "_Where_?" he asked, gesturing around them. He _wanted_ to ask "What is this place, and why are we here? Where did the rest of the village go, and when will we return?" and frustration flared at his inability to do so. "Where?" he finally repeated, gesturing again, and Sokka nodded.

The chieftain said a careful sentence that ended with the word "camp." Zuko shook his head and Sokka frowned, then brightened. He pointed to the sky, traced his finger through the air and to the horizon. "Sun," he said, looking at Zuko; he nodded cautiously and Sokka repeated the motion, the arc of his hand growing smaller with every repetition. He said the word again, and Zuko understood.

"_Summer_," he repeated.

Sokka nodded. "This summer camp. Food here."

Zuko wondered what _that_ meant, considering that there seemed no shortage of food at the regular village, but Sokka's expression contained no irony so he shrugged as the chieftain continued.

"We come here long time." He pointed at the crone, and said another indecipherable sentence; Zuko shook his head again and Sokka just rolled his eyes. "_Loooong_ time."

Voices rose in singing and chanting as the evening wore on, the moon gliding slowly over the horizon. The adults showed no sign of fatigue even as Tahnra yawned and Akiak slept on the woman's lap. Zuko stifled a yawn himself before the woman and other mothers stood, gathering the children into a sleepy herd.

Tahnra held up her arms and Zuko scooped her up, following the procession to the shelters, ready for sleep himself. The woman tucked Akiak into a bundle of blankets in the middle of one shelter, then gestured at Zuko to set Tahnra down as well. The girl settled into the bed without even token protest.

Zuko yawned again, then realized suddenly that he had no idea where to sleep. The woman stepped back towards the path and he cleared his throat, uncertain.

She turned, the tilt of her head expectant even as her expression was invisible in the dark. "Where… I sleep?" he asked haltingly, realizing only after that he should have simply chosen a place, claimed his own area rather than asking for one like a _slave_, but he felt too tired to fight and pushed the frustration aside.

The woman paused for a long moment before stepping through the mounds of blankets. "Here," she said softly, pointing to a space at the edge of the shelter, an arm's length from Tahnra. "You sleep here."

He nodded, then realized that she couldn't see him in the dark, but she had already turned back to the path. Zuko settled into the space, choosing a blanket against the night's faint chill, and thought briefly that her voice had held no nuance of command, only polite answer.

* * *

Zuko rose with the sun for his morning swim, the light reaching straight into the structure to wake him. He stood on the beach for a moment, enjoying the view, the tall peaks opposite their summer camp; he was about to pull off his shirt when the woman's low voice interrupted him.

"No," she called, and he turned. She stood at the top of the beach, hair loose and disheveled as she shook her head. "No swim here." Before he could lift his chin and glare his defiance, she pointed. "Water strong." She pointed again, but the water seemed flat and smooth. Zuko raised his brow skeptically. "Water strong," she repeated, then flapped her hand. "Come."

She turned, gesturing over her shoulder, and he followed. They walked along the beach, then on a narrow path between the trees, then onto a rock outcropping. Hot springs steamed there, gathering in a natural basin before spilling out onto the beach to join the sea, but the woman continued without stopping and Zuko followed. The beach on the other side formed a perfect crescent shape, and she waved at it. "Here. Swim." She yawned, covering her mouth before continuing. "Good for swim."

She yawned again, then looked out at the sea, and he nodded. "Thank you."

He waited for her to turn and make her way back up the beach but she made no move to leave and Zuko began to wonder if she was going to watch his morning swim; he felt oddly uneasy at the thought, despite how many times he had emerged from the beach to find her standing and watching.

He finally turned towards the water and reached for his shirt ties and she looked up suddenly. "Good," she said hastily. "You swim. I… go." She turned quickly and made her way back along the beach.

Zuko watched her disappear. _Was she… blushing_?

He shook his head and stripped off his clothes, waded into the water. The beach here dropped off sharply and the water was clear and deep beneath him, shaded from the sun. He dove deep, feeling the pressure build in his ears before arcing back to the surface; he swam away from shore to where the sun played on the gentle waves and he had to squint against its brightness.

When he returned to the camp, the morning routine was well under way and the woman busy trying to feed Akiak. Akiak, in turn, was busy trying to scramble away, while Tahnra sat beside Sokka holding a bundle of twisted cord that the chieftain steadily untangled. Activity buzzed in the air as Zuko dished out a serving from the communal breakfast pot and ate quickly.

Later, as the tide ebbed, the current surged along the beach and crashed into the rocky outcropping the canoes rested on. Zuko paused in his work for a moment, watching the violent upwelling, and silently thanked the woman for her warning.

* * *

Sokka's words from the previous night – "food here" – took shape as the Water Tribe settled in to the summer camp. Two distinct tasks emerged, with young women and children picking berries and adults constructing odd wooden structures in the water and high on the beach. A few elders minded the very youngest children, but even the crone worked, overseeing the preparations.

Zuko worked smoothly beside the Water Tribe, holding wooden poles steady while others lashed them together, and scooping loose rocks and coarse sand from beneath the emerging structures. Tahnra skipped happily down to him mid-afternoon, holding out a basket filled with large, golden berries and beaming. "See?" she said proudly, and Zuko smiled, tipping his head back in a nod.

"Good," he said, and her grin widened; she giggled as she skipped back up the beach to join the other berry pickers. Zuko watched her go, but the warm feeling dissipated when he noticed the crone observing him through narrowed eyes. She seemed to study him and he felt suddenly self-conscious under her scrutiny as he braced the next set of poles.

He felt both relief and trepidation when later she stumped down to him, addressed him brusquely. "You," she said, then pointed at his hand. "Fire."

Feeling oddly compelled to obey, Zuko raised his hand, calling fire to it and remembering when Tahnra made the same request. Rather than childish delight, however, the crone's face showed stern consideration. "_Larger_," she said with a gesture that made the word clear, and Zuko let the flame grow. She leaned close to it, watching, then settled back and waved her hand dismissively. "No good," she muttered, and turned back to the structures rising on the beach.

Zuko watched her hobble away, mystified and frustrated by his lack of understanding, and feeling faintly _inadequate_.

That evening, as they again sat around the fire, Zuko asked Sokka about the encounter. "Elder," he said quietly, pointing to the crone.

Sokka nodded. "Kana. _Gran-gran_."

Zuko stored the title away and continued haltingly. "Ask me, show fire." He called fire into his hand, then closed his palm and waved dismissively. "Say 'no good.'" He shrugged and spread his arms and let them fall to his sides, trying to convey his confusion.

Sokka laughed aloud. "No –" and he said an unfamiliar word; Zuko shook his head. Sokka pointed at the cookfire, wiggled his fingers above it and raising them slowly to the sky, then said the word again.

_Smoke_, Zuko realized. "No smoke," he said slowly, and Sokka nodded.

"Need smoke," he said, gesturing at the beach beyond.

Zuko raised his brow, wondering what the beach had to do with smoke, but Sokka continued.

"Fish. Smoke fish."

Understanding spread through Zuko as he realized that Sokka gestured at the wooden frames, not the beach – frames set above fire pits, waiting for a grand harvest.

* * *

The next morning, Zuko noticed slender silver fish darting through the water as he swam. When he returned to the camp, the woman and her cousin stood on the rock outcropping, looking at the water and at the sky; they talked with Sokka and another man, and all nodded. By midday, the fish swam in greater schools by the beach, and by dusk they flowed like a torrent, turning bands of water silver with their number. The tribe completed the last work on the wooden frames as dusk fell, a few adults making last-minute adjustments while the rest filled the firepits below with wood and seaweeds.

They danced in celebration that night; the songs carrying the sound of both welcome and question as Zuko watched, Akiak dozing comfortably on his lap. He felt their enthusiasm spread even as he considered the odd contrast: these warriors who speared seals and considered themselves brothers to the great killer whales, so excited over small silver fish.

Akiak mumbled in his sleep as Zuko yawned; he rose carefully and nodded at the woman before carrying the sleeping child to the shelters. He wondered briefly what the next day would bring as he slipped off to sleep himself.

* * *

_Author's note_: I am very aware that I am over-simplifying the way a foreign language would sound. They're no longer speaking the trade jargon of the first chapters – it's all either Water Tribe or Zuko talking to himself in High Fire Nation. Everything the Water Tribe says has the detail and nuance of any other real _language_, with all the annoying bits of grammar and word order and tonal variation and stuff, rather than a _jargon_'s very limited vocabulary of words useful to trade. I've chosen to simplify that for the sake of the prose, though.

To illustrate, Sokka said something like "This is our family's summer camp. We journey every year to gather food here," and Zuko heard something like "This asdfqwert hjlyuiop summer camp. Asdfg hjkl qwert'asd'yuiop food asdfhjklasdf-hjkl'asdf'uiop here." Nouns and verbs and even adjectives are relatively easy (ha) to pick up, but particles take longer to decipher (in my experience), so he would have picked out a handful of recognizable words from the proper sentence. But writing it that way breaks up the narrative, so I've decided to just write out the words that Zuko understands and skip all the rest.

This format allows me to do a similar thing to skim over the way that several words can have the same basic meaning. Katara might have said something like "Don't swim!" but rather than pick up on the nuance of a contraction of "do" and "not," Zuko just picked up on the negative – "_no_."

So, in closing, the Water Tribe are not a society of grunting monosyllabistic savages from a 1950s serial Western – they just sort of sound like it in this stage of Zuko's understanding of the language. Zuko, on the other hand, is sort of grunting monosyllabistically, but I think we can all forgive him that, considering.

Thank you for allowing my prose its creative license!


	14. Helped

**Helped**

_posted September 19, 2009_

* * *

Zuko forwent his swim the next morning.

The water churned with fish, turning the cove silver; the sight made him feel faintly nauseous as he stood on the beach. Handfuls of dead fish littered the tide line where it lapped up the rocks and he shuddered at the thought of wading through them.

On the short walk back to the camp, he considered bathing in the hot springs, draining clear and steaming onto the beach, but quickly dismissed the idea. His inner fires burned hot in the morning and sitting idle in a hot pool held no appeal.

The camp hummed with activity when Zuko returned, surprising him; the Water Tribe rarely stirred until the sun had risen well into the sky. The crone – _Kana_ – sat at the top of the beach, Sokka and the woman and her cousin before her; they seemed to find a consensus as he approached.

Sokka clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. "Eat," he said absently. "Today, we _fish_."

* * *

Sokka did not exaggerate. Over the long day, Zuko fished with the Water Tribe, a grueling process that kept all but the very youngest children continuously busy. His swimming cove, Zuko later learned, was a spawning ground and not suited for harvest; the catch took place in the swirling waters below the camp.

Waterbenders stood on the rocks and in the bows of canoes to manipulate streams of fish towards waiting canoes, nets stretched between them. Fishers gathered full nets carefully, spilling the wriggling contents into their canoe while others set new nets in place. Ponderously full canoes were guided carefully to shore by both waterbenders and fishers, balanced precariously on the gunwales over their catch. Those members of the tribe ashore met the incoming canoes and loaded fish into baskets, carrying them up to the drying racks while the fishers paddled back to the current.

Beside the racks, a team of older women slit each fish's belly and pushed the entrails out; older children strung cleaned fish onto lengths of cord. By early afternoon, the racks began to fill with strings of drying fish, hanging over low fires burning in the pits below – not to cook the fish, Sokka explained, but to provide a smoke screen against insects.

Kana supervised these activities, directing fishers and cleaners alike with the precision of an orchestra. Adults and teenagers worked in the canoes and carried fish up the shore, switching between tasks and taking breaks only to grab hasty meals. Children Tahnra's age helped with countless small tasks, including waving their arms and shrieking at the great birds that gathered to observe the growing catch through beady eyes. Only infants and toddlers were left out of the process, watched carefully by the same elder who tended the soup pot.

Zuko found himself working in Sokka's canoe most of the day, alongside a teenage boy named Maktok and an older woman named Iluah. Both Sokka and Iluah showed hard-earned skill at setting the nets and pulling them in, while Maktok was clumsy with both youth and inexperience. Zuko learned quickly from watching Sokka demonstrate how to maneuver the nets as Iluah guided them both with calm patience and careful words.

Both novices soon learned the difficulty of guiding a full net into the canoe without losing a few fish, but a slippery line demonstrated just how delicate the process could be. Sokka's shout echoed across the bay while Iluah lunged for the edge of the net and Maktok struggled to regain his grip; Zuko stood helpless in the bow as the catch spilled back into the sea.

This, Iluah explained slowly with gestures and words as they stretched the net again, not only wasted their own hard work, but angered the spirits. Zuko watched a handful of still carcasses float away, neither food for the Water Tribe nor destined to spawn, and thought he understood; he remembered the actions and as the net slowly filled, he had an idea.

He caught Sokka's eye and made a swooping gesture to warn him – the chieftain's eyes widened and he raised his hand in warning, but Zuko had already balanced his weight carefully in the canoe's center and the vessel hardly rocked as he dove off it into the bitingly cold water.

Zuko let the dive's momentum carry him to the bottom of the net and he opened his eyes to consider its breadth before him. Fish streamed past him on both sides, their school broken by the net's expanse; he noted how gather lines looped up and stone weights hung from the bottom. He surfaced and blinked the salt from his eyes and found fishers from several canoes staring at him; he found Sokka's gaze and gestured as he treaded water. "End. I get. No spill."

Sokka's face displayed skepticism even as he nodded, but he gave the order to begin hauling in the net. Zuko dove back beneath the water, finding the gather line and pulling it taut; he broke the surface and handed the line off to Iluah.

The process indeed spilled fewer fish back into the water – and raised the net faster – and Zuko found himself in the water more than out of it as the day wore on. Sokka caught on quickly and together they improved the technique as Iluah smoothly adapted and even Maktok fumbled less. Other canoes tried the same technique, but only Zuko and the waterbenders could stand the cold for more than a few minutes, and the waterbenders remained more occupied by currents than the nets.

As evening neared, Zuko surfaced for what seemed like the thousandth time, treading water for a moment as he passed the line to Iluah. As it slid from his hands, Zuko realized suddenly that he was _exhausted_, too tired to pull himself into the canoe. He briefly considered swimming ashore when Sokka called out.

Zuko looked up to see him leaning down, extending his hand. "Up?" the chieftain asked again, and Zuko stared at him for a moment before grasping his forearm. Sokka leaned back and pulled and Zuko scrambled aboard the canoe, careful to both balance his weight and not stick his foot into the mass of fish. Sokka took up a paddle while Zuko draped himself across the gunwales, his back and rear almost resting on the shimmering mound of fish. His heels dragged in the water but he couldn't bring himself to move as he tried to stoke the fires inside him.

Sokka said a short phrase, its tone mocking and the word for water emphasized; Zuko found the meaning clear. _You sure you're not a _water_-bender_?

Zuko snorted, feeling the weight of fatigue and cold in his limbs. "I didn't see _you_ in the water today, buddy."

Sokka cleared his throat, raised his brows, and Zuko struggled to find the words. "I see _you_, no water, today."

Sokka roared with laughter as he guided the canoe into shore, Maktok giggling and Iluah shaking her head. Zuko leaned back awkwardly and watched the sky lighten with sunset, gradients of orange and yellow displacing the blue. He managed to stagger out of the canoe and onto the shore unassisted, and even haul a load of fish up the beach. He stumbled, though, as the sun slipped below the horizon and his knees started to buckle – but a firm hand grasped his elbow and guided him to a space beside the cookfire.

"Here," a creaking voice said as someone thrust a bowl of something hot into his hands; Zuko gulped it down, hardly tasting it. He looked up to see one of the elders, a woman who had tended the fires all day. She smiled warmly at him. "More?"

Zuko nodded, feeling minutely better already, and she replaced the empty bowl with one full. He ate its contents more slowly than the first and tasted it this time, salty and rich and _delicious_. He returned her smile as he finished. "Thank you," he said carefully and she waved her hand absently as she took the bowl.

He sat for a moment longer in a sort of daze, then realized that he should be helping bring the catch up the beach; Zuko gathered his strength to stand when Sokka plunked down beside him, handing him two roasted fish on a stick and keeping two more for himself.

Iluah and Maktok sat down nearby, as other fishers and Zuko realized distantly that the day's work was done. They ate in companionable silence and the waterbenders joined them shortly after, looking equally exhausted and satisfied.

Conversations started with second helpings as they compared each canoe's catch; at least, that was what the occasional word that Zuko picked out seemed to describe. He finished a third bowl slowly as evening deepened, and dozed with his back against a log when Sokka jostled him awake.

"Bath," he said quietly, and Zuko blinked sleepily and stood and followed him down the path to the hot springs. Women passed them on the trail, talking quietly as they returned from their own bathing.

The woman stopped as they met on the path, still radiating damp heat; she greeted Sokka softly, then studied Zuko's face and reached carefully for his wrist. Zuko let her take it and she squeezed gently, her hand warm and her eyes unfocused as if listening. They stood still for a long moment before she finally nodded and worry he hadn't noticed slipped from her face. "Good," she said, and something else, before walking down the path again, and Zuko stared after her for a moment, bemused.

_Did she just… check my qi_? he wondered – then jumped as someone cleared their throat behind him. Zuko turned to see Iluah, who patted his arm maternally and said a short phrase, its tone the same as the woman's, followed by that odd word with too many "l" and "k" sounds. She continued along the path before he could respond and he finally shook himself and followed Sokka.

The tribe's men sat in the hot spring already, arrayed around the pools in varying attitudes of relaxation. Zuko sank gratefully into the steaming water, sighing as he let his own inner fires relax. Stars shone brightly behind the mist that hovered around them and Zuko allowed himself to savor the satisfaction of hard work in good company.

* * *

Unfamiliar pressure roused Zuko the next morning, weight on his shoulder and the sun far too high in the sky. He reacted instinctively, seizing the arm that reached for him as he struggled out of sleep.

He blinked to see the woman staring at him with surprise written on her face and Zuko thought suddenly of their solstice battle; he released her wrist instantly, then dragged his forearm across his eyes.

"Late," she said with a quirk of her mouth, and reached for his wrist.

Like the night before, he let her, and like the night before, she tipped her head and seemed to listen. Her fingers shifted, squeezing lightly and she nodded minutely. _She _is _checking my qi_, Zuko thought as she let go and rolled to her feet. "Eat," she said before turning away.

Zuko watched her go, then shook his head and cast his blanket aside. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled and he rose, oddly touched by her concern.

Later, he found his attention drawn back to the woman as she directed the currents, working today from the canoe positioned beside Sokka's. The net seemed easier to maneuver that morning, oddly buoyant, and it took Zuko two or three catches to realize that she helped him raise it, shifting the current _up_ as he swam for the surface with the lines.

He thought again of the solstice as he reset the net, keeping his eyes scrupulously on the work: the easy way they had moved opposite each other, how the bending become almost a dance. His mind wandered further as Zuko hauled himself onto the canoe's stern and waited for the net to fill again; he remembered her body under his and the sun above, that brief second of peace before she had released the deluge on them both.

The next pull of the net filled their canoe and Sokka guided it carefully ashore; they helped haul the catch up the beach and paused briefly for more food. The elder who tended the soup pot refilled Zuko's bowl almost before he finished and admonished him with a gentle "_eat_!" when he tried to thank her.

A happy shriek warned him just before Tahnra slammed into his leg; Zuko looked down to find her beaming up at him. Her greeting included the words for "fish" and "net" and "fast" and Zuko placed his hand on her head for a moment as he finished his food.

By the time their canoe returned to the currents, the woman had changed positions again, now standing on the rocky outcrop that defined the bay. The net grew heavier as the shadows lengthened across the water, but Zuko finished the day able to haul himself from the water unassisted.

* * *

The next morning, Zuko finished eating as he watched Sokka inspect the rough shack at the end of the beach, examining it closely and thumping on the walls. As he wondered what purpose _this _structure would serve, the other woman, the one who resembled Tahnra and Akiak's mother, stepped up to Sokka, irritation clear in her posture.

Zuko heard the words for "fish" and "canoe" and "cook" and "day" and "smoke" in her sentence; Sokka's response contained "tomorrow" and "early" and "elder" and his tone betrayed annoyance. She made a frustrated sound as she walked away, and Sokka rolled his eyes.

Zuko waited until she was out of sight a few moments, then moved to stand by Sokka. "Sister's… sister?" he asked carefully.

"Ah. _Cousin_. Auka." The chieftain threw up his hands as he continued. "Married the _Shark_." That odd phrase began a torrent, Sokka's tone alternating between annoyed and affectionate. Zuko caught the words for "journey" and "child" and "waves" and "wolf" and "house" and "Gran-Gran" and "father", but the meaning of the tirade escaped him. Sokka wound down finally and gave an irritated sigh before brightening.

"But, they go soon," he said happily, followed by the word for "mountain" and one similar to that used for fishing.

He walked down to where their canoe waited as Zuko found himself again frustrated by his lack of understanding. _Come on Zuko_, he thought as he picked his way down the beach. _You learned Ancient Earth Kingdom, you can learn Water Tribe_.

* * *

The catch continued for several days as countless fish were caught and hung up to dry. The shed turned out to be a smokehouse, where dried fish were transferred to cure further in thick, choking smoke. Even as the drying racks remained full, women cut strings of smoked fish apart and packed them into boxes filled with oil – oil rendered from the seals they had caught, Iluah mentioned one afternoon as they waited again for the net to fill. Fish were also poured into three old canoes, buried in the loose rocks and sand at the top of the beach, the tops covered the catch with branches and sea weed; the first step, Iluah explained, to extracting oil.

The Water Tribe ate their share of the catch fresh, too, roasted and steamed and stewed with berries and cooked in the coals with seaweed. Zuko found he liked the fish best raw, split open and boned after a scant few hours of drying. The fresh sea-taste made him wistful for _home_, he realized that night in the hot spring, even if home wasn't a _place_ but an idea colored equally by longing and anxiety.

He pushed that thought aside and instead thought briefly of savory dipping sauces and spicy condiments. The Water Tribe seasoned their fish with ripened oil, bland by comparison though Zuko ate it heartily enough. _Hunger is indeed the best sauce, Uncle_, he thought idly as the water's heat seeped into his bones and his mind wandered with the rising steam.


	15. Stalked

**Stalked**

_posted September 28, 2009_

* * *

Just as the catch seemed without end, fish thinned from the water and then from the drying racks. Fishers turned their attention to repairing their nets and packing them away, while older women packed smoked fish into boxes and covered them with oil. The Water Tribe seemed to collectively breathe in relief as activity diminished back to a pace that allowed time to relax – and feast.

Zuko finished his third massive serving as the cook fires burned down to glowing coals. The night's meal was little different from those in previous days – the last fresh fish roasted and baked, berries and greens both alone and cooked with the fish, shellfish steamed gently to release the soft flesh inside – but the leisure to enjoy it gave the food new relish. Sokka and Iluah and other fishers sat near him, with the woman and her cousin nearby. Akiak sat wedged between Zuko and Sokka, while Tahnra graced them all with her company in turn.

Conversation died down as had the cook fires, men and women rising to dance. Sokka bounded to his feet with a handful of other men to stand opposite a handful of waterbenders; they moved to a complicated singing chant, the waterbenders describing weaving patterns while the men leapt and retreated in motions that suggested chase.

Iluah nudged him gently, gesturing towards the men. "_Sea lions_," she said quietly; Zuko nodded. The dance was at once graceful and playful, the waterbenders twisting themselves to avoid the men's lunges.

The dance ended in a crescendo of song and the men sat back down, laughing and panting as the waterbenders transitioned smoothly to a new dance, drawing clear water from the baskets that surrounded the cook fires. The song's cadence changed as the waxing moon rose over the trees and Zuko found himself once again watching the woman. Her movements held the grace and control of a true bending master, her body moving as easily through the dance as it had through their sparring matches.

The dancing lasted late into the night; Akiak long asleep in Zuko's lap and Tahnra dozing against his side before the women at last stepped down.

* * *

Zuko relished his swim the next morning, the waters of the cove once again calm and shimmering in the early sunshine. He emerged feeling fresh and energized and sunk into a firebending form, a long routine that focused on balance and rhythm rather than combat. His qi still felt diminished from long hours spent battling the sea's cold, and he relished the feel of sun on his skin.

The form ended with a deep stretch towards the sky and Zuko felt the bones in his back and shoulders creak as he relaxed; he dropped his hands and exhaled and turned back towards the shore. The woman waited at the top of the beach, sitting lotus-style on a massive log bleached silver by sun and tide. Zuko almost grinned, unsurprised as she hopped down to the rocks; she raised her brow and held up her hands and shifted her weight forward and Zuko nodded in response.

The fight was exhilarating, moving lightly across the beach as they attacked and defended, the movements as much a dance as those of the sea lions and fish. The day's heat rose while the shade remained cool and they darted through sun and shadows as Zuko leapt and kicked and the woman swept her hands up and water swirled around her.

The fight ended with a wall of seawater and a billow of steam, the woman's eyes widening at the deafening hiss while Zuko shook water from his hair. "Stop?" she asked, and Zuko nodded, breathing heavily.

* * *

Women packed the last of the catch into boxes later that morning as warriors and fishers began carrying the filled boxes to the waterline where two canoes waited. Zuko took his place in the process, the boxes heavy and ungainly and smelling of smoke and fish, lids tied in place with thick twine. He breathed a sigh of relief when he passed the last box to a warrior standing in the canoe, and he helped Sokka and a handful of others push the vessels into the water. Two warriors leapt into each canoe and took up paddles, turning the vessels as they slid into deeper water.

"Now, back to village," Sokka said, nodding at the canoes, then turning to walk back up the beach. Zuko followed beside him.

"What us?" he wondered aloud. "More fish?" he asked wryly.

Sokka grinned and slapped him on the back. "More fish!"

Zuko stopped walking. "I was joking, you know," he called in his own tongue, but Sokka and the others continued on; he finally shook his head and followed.

They walked along the beach, away from the cove where Zuko swam, picking their way through cobbles and across rock shelves until they came to a wide stream gushing from the hillside to the sea. Zuko followed them into the trees, walking carefully on the broad mossy bank. Sokka turned to him as they stopped, the sea still in sight beyond the trees, the sun filtering through the canopy.

"Fish jump," he described, his hand tracing a leaping path through the air. "We catch."

They spent the afternoon constructing a series of barriers in the stream, dividing it into pools that, Sokka explained in gestures and words, would force the fish to leap at fishers waiting with spears and nets. Working smoothly in groups again, the Water Tribe pounded thick stakes in rows along the creek and cut thin, whippy branches from nearby underbrush to weave through the stakes. Zuko found his rhythm quickly, working elbow-to-elbow with Sokka and Iluah and other fishers.

The stream's icy water made the sea seem warm in comparison, but the air around them remained warm and Zuko enjoyed the task. Snippets of conversation around him took on more meaning as Sokka and Iluah and even Maktok defined words for "stream" and "weir" and "willow," as well as a distinction between "herring" and "salmon."

The conversation continued during the evening meal, the fishers sharing stories of past catches, and Zuko looked forward to the upcoming "salmon" harvest with some trepidation. From the fishers' gestures, these would _not_ be small sleek fish that swam to waiting nets.

Across the fire, waterbenders and women who had cleaned rather than caught fish held their own conversations; Zuko heard the words "journey" and "mountain" between tales of past harvest, and wondered idly where they planned to go.

* * *

If Zuko felt faint disappointment when he finished his swim the next morning and turned to find the beach empty, he pushed the thought aside as he pulled his clothing back on. Thin clouds covered the sky, the air warm and almost humid without yesterday's breeze.

Raised voices greeted him when he returned to the camp, the smell of boiled tubers filling the air. Sokka stood opposite the woman's cousin – _Auka_ – who crossed her arms and smirked while Sokka shook his head. The woman stood awkwardly by them; she glanced up and met Zuko's eyes and embarrassment spread across her face, her cheeks flushing scarlet as she looked quickly away.

Auka glanced at her, then at Zuko, and her smirk deepened; she arched her brow at him briefly before turning back to Sokka with a sharp word. _They're arguing over me_, he realized, and felt the morning's calm slip away, replaced by cold anger at Auka's expression.

Sokka, too, seemed angered, his words floating back to Zuko. "No! _Male_. Not go." He gestured over Auka's shoulder in the direction of the stream and Zuko picked out the words for "weir" and "build," followed by another vehement "_no_."

Auka stared at him for a moment, her smirk replaced by anger, and as one they turned to the woman. Zuko missed what they asked, but the woman closed her eyes and shook her head and held up one limp hand.

Sokka groaned dramatically, throwing up his hands and storming away as Auka's smug smile returned; she looked directly at Zuko for a moment, then turned to talk quietly with the woman. The woman, in turn, stared at her feet, her face still red, but Zuko's attention shifted away as Sokka stormed past. He pointed at Zuko.

"You go." His face held frustration beside the anger, and he spread his hands and shrugged as if to say _Sorry, I tried_.

Zuko forced the anger back. "Moon time?" he asked, hoping the irony masked his rage.

Sokka looked at him oddly, then laughed. "Summer. No _moon time_." He chuckled as he walked away, as if Zuko had made a joke.

_Okay_… Zuko thought, the anger replaced by puzzlement. _Did I misunderstand 'moon time'_?

* * *

Moon time or no, they left the next morning after a fast breakfast. The fishers still sat beside the cook fires as waterbenders and other women shouldered light packs, woven baskets with wide straps. Children stood beside them or clung to their legs with wide eyes, some wailing, as fathers and uncles gently pried them away.

Zuko remained sitting, ignoring the farewells, until Auka stepped up to him, yesterday's smirk still on her face. "You," she said authoritatively, dropping a pack at his feet, and Zuko bristled. He stood, straightening his back and staring down at her, but her expression didn't change. "We go."

Neither of them moved and Zuko felt his anger grow, the frustrated rage of his first weeks with the Water Tribe returning to him with Auka's stare.

A hand on his forearm interrupted the confrontation; Zuko felt surprise at the woman's touch, the way she glanced at him before turning to Auka and speaking quickly with her. Auka frowned and pulled her arm away, then shrugged. She looked at Zuko again, smugness still in her expression, then walked back to the group gathering beyond the camp fires.

The woman relaxed slightly, her shoulders sagging, then turned to him. "Come," she said quietly, her eyes downcast and her face flushed. "Please?"

Zuko frowned at her, but she didn't meet his eyes and he realized suddenly that this wasn't her choice, either. He nodded slowly, stiffly, and she looked up at him briefly before turning away and crouching to embrace Tahnra and Akiak.

Someone cleared their throat beside him and Zuko started before realizing it was Sokka. The chieftain regarded him with something like pity in his clear blue eyes, and nodded somberly. "You go," he said with an exaggerated sigh, and then something that sounded suspiciously like "good luck." He nodded at Auka, who embraced a tall man, and made a small noise of disgust. "Not bad," he said quietly, then briefly clasped Zuko's arm in a warrior's farewell before walking away.

Then Tahnra and Akiak rushed to Zuko and he crouched down to hug them both. "Don't want go," Tahnra said clearly, and Zuko smiled.

"Back soon," he said, and she hugged him as Akiak regarded him somberly. Zuko ruffled his hair and stood.

* * *

They walked for most of the day, following a narrow game trail through forest and meadow, away from the sea. Zuko walked at the back of the line, his irritation at Auka's curt "you guard" warring with confusion over the woman's intervention that morning. _Family politics_, he finally decided as the shadows lengthened into late afternoon. _That's something I can understand_.

The evening meal around a small campfire was awkward, the women and teenaged girls ignoring him except for the occasional giggle or blush that he'd grown used to. Zuko recognized few words in their conversations, and he found himself missing Sokka and Iluah, the other fishers and warriors; Orvik and Takuak and others from the main village who must be at their own summer camps, building their own fish weirs.

Later that evening, as he lay under his own small tarp stretched between two trees opposite the fire from the women's, he missed Tahra and Akiak as well, their occasional warm weight settled against his side, the way they sought him out over all but their own mother. _Careful, Zuko_, he told himself, turning restlessly onto his side.

* * *

_Why am I here_? Zuko asked himself a few days later. He felt sticky and unwashed for so long without his morning swim, despite splashing himself off in the nearby stream. Auka's terse command of _Guard_ still rankled as she and the other women spread across the high meadow they camped in.

The object of their journey seemed to be a short plant, green foliage with deep purple flowers that grew thickly in the meadow. Women gathered it methodically, cutting bunches just above the root crown with thin metal knives and drying it carefully by their camp. Zuko seemed to be along as a token guard, a status he quickly began to resent.

Or would have resented, if he hadn't still felt fatigued from the fish harvest. _That's what you get for running your qi down_, he told himself. The sun beat down on him where he lay sprawled in the meadow, swords beside him, and he reflected idly that at least he hadn't been asked to gather plants. Considering Sokka's reaction, such an action was probably beneath him, slave or no.

Zuko had slipped back into a light doze when a shriek startled him awake. He came instantly alert, on his feet and moving towards the shriek before he fully registered the noise.

The youngest girl on the journey, slim and delicate and a clumsy waterbender, crouched on the ground nearby, staring towards the trees; Zuko followed her gaze and tensed as a huge tawny cat gathered itself for a second leap.

He lunged forward as the girl shrieked again, leaping between her and the cat; it crashed into him with a snarl and he used its momentum to throw it backwards. It landed heavily a few feet away, getting to its feet and shaking its head and hissing. Zuko drew fire in an arc around him and the cat suddenly hesitated; he leaned forward, swiping at it with a flaming hand and the cat shied away. It streaked into the forest, away from the camp, and Zuko let the fire die away from his hand.

He stood, watching it disappear, and breathed deeply for a moment. _Well_, he thought to himself. _At least coming along wasn't a_ total _waste_. He turned to find the girl staring up at him. Her expression had changed somehow from the blushes and giggles around the fire, and he reached down to help her up.

She took his hand and let him pull her up; she brushed her tunic off carefully. "Hurt," she said suddenly, and Zuko looked her over; it wasn't until she pointed that he realized she referred to _him_.

He looked down to find his shirt slashed and shallow scratches across his chest; they stung slightly, but he shrugged. "It's nothing," he said absently as a faint commotion started at the other end of the clearing: a short scream, followed by shouting.

_Did the cat circle around the meadow_? he wondered as he ran towards the new disturbance, hoping that one of the older waterbenders would keep it at bay until he arrived. The commotion grew and Zuko saw women clustered together, crouching around something; he ran faster, a sick sense of urgency overtaking him as he realized that the woman wasn't among those standing.

Time seemed to freeze as he pushed his way into the circle; young women standing with shocked expressions on their faces; older women pale and worried as they pushed someone against the ground; Auka kneeling and shouting at them all; an odd lizard-like creature behind her, its body crushed.

Panic overtook Zuko as he finally saw what held their attention: the woman lay in the middle of the cluster, convulsing weakly; her eyes rolled back, her face ashen, blood oozing sluggishly from two punctures on her foot.

_No_…


	16. Named

**Named**

_posted September 29, 2009_

* * *

For a horrified eternity, Zuko could only stare as the woman convulsed on the ground, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He fell to his knees beside her as time resumed its normal speed, Auka shouting, other women talking or crying, a few trying to still the woman's frantic motion.

Auka looked up at him and snapped at him, gesturing as she tried to force the woman's legs to still. _Hold her down!_ he realized, and he pushed her shoulders against the ground; others grabbed her wrists and ankles and Auka released her ankles to move her hands in a complicated pattern. The convulsions increased, the woman jerking beneath their grasp, and stress was clear in Auka's voice as she cursed, her hands trying to follow the motions.

Zuko shifted suddenly, pulling the woman back against him and wrapping his arms around her, trapping her shoulders like he had so many weeks before, holding her body immobile as the other women recaptured her arms, her legs.

"No heat, no heat!" Auka snapped as her hands moved frantically and Zuko concentrated, narrowing his focus to dim the fires that burned inside him. Auka closed her eyes and her hands stilled as the woman remained still, trapped in a collective grasp; Auka's fingers twitched and Zuko suddenly realized she was bending the woman's blood, searching for the poison spreading through her veins.

Chill rolled over Zuko, the other waterbenders expelling icy vapor with their breath even as the woman convulsed against their hands and her breathing became more labored; Zuko listened to the gasps and realized that her throat was closing. The image of Tahnra and Akiak embracing her swam in his memory and he closed his eyes against fear and held her tighter against the convulsions, beginning to shiver as waterbenders poured cold into the air around them

Auka shouted suddenly, her eyes closed as she moved one hand sharply down. Blood streamed from the punctures, following her hand, and she bent it away into the bushes. The woman seized, her entire body rigid, then relaxed abruptly. Her breathing came fast but easy and Zuko felt cold sweat on her skin as he slumped forward; he pulled her closer against him as the other women released her wrists, her legs.

Auka nodded, sitting back on her heels and wiping sweat from her own brow as the other women sighed and murmured words of relief. They touched Auka's shoulders and stroked the woman's hair where it fell on Zuko's arm and their words held the reverence of thanks to benevolent gods; a few lightly tapped Zuko's shoulder as well. Auka spoke softly, patting the woman gently on one knee in a gesture like Tahnra's, and the women began to drift away, to retrieve gathering baskets dropped in excitement and perform the day's small chores.

The sun's light deepened to afternoon gold as Auka looked up and nodded to Zuko, a sharp gesture that conveyed appreciation and even gratitude, hard-won and meaning more for it. He nodded in return and she gestured absently. "Heat now," she said softly, and Zuko allowed the fires inside him to blaze up again.

Auka fell back on the grass and exhaled loudly as a girl played with her hair and Zuko pulled the woman closer, feeling her shiver. Relief spread over him, slowly displacing the fear, almost dizzying him in its intensity: Tahnra and Akiak would not have to grow up without a mother as well as a father. _The father you killed, Zuko_, he reminded himself. _If those children become orphans, it's your fault_.

The woman stirred, whimpering deep in her throat, and Zuko tightened his arms around her. "Safe," he said softly. "Safe." She relaxed against him, her head pillowed in the curve of his shoulder, and Zuko sighed as he thought of her children, Tahra's bright laughter and Akiak's shy smiles. They were innocents, happy and loved and valued; even Sokka's odd sternness was respectful and _fair_. As Zuko tried not to think of his own childhood, the rules always changing as he struggled to keep up, he realized with sudden clarity how much he wanted to protect these children, their childhood as well as their lives.

_I know what it's like to lose a mother_.

The feeling grew in his chest and his throat, making it hard to breathe; Zuko didn't know how to put it into his own words, let alone those of the Water Tribe, but he knew suddenly that his duty to Tahnra and Akiak was also a duty to _her_, their mother. "I'll protect you," he finally whispered, resting his scarred cheek against her hair. "For them."

* * *

The afternoon slipped by as they sat together, Zuko gently warming the woman as she slept and the Water Tribe moved around the camp. The girls on the dinner detail started a camp fire and Zuko moved to sit before it, shifting the woman carefully in his arms as she slept. Auka checked on her several times, taking her wrist and listening, nodding and replacing her arm against her side. "Good," she said to Zuko more than once, her tone cautiously respectful even as she arched her brows.

Later, as evening fell softly on the camp, Auka returned and gestured at the tent. "In now. Sleep," she said. Zuko nodded and started to stand and carry her towards it, but Auka stopped him. "We take," she said, motioning other women to come forward, and Zuko reluctantly allowed them to take her from his arms. She stirred and groaned as Auka and another woman supported her, slinging her arms over their shoulders.

Zuko watched them go, but the woman seemed still asleep, her head lolling forward as they helped her into the tent. He sat back down before the fire and sighed deeply, watching the flames.

A nervous cough drew his attention a short time later and Zuko turned to see the girl he'd saved from the great cat. She held out a bowl, tubers and roasted rabbit fragrant inside, and he smiled as he took it. "Thanks."

She bobbed her head in a nervous nod, then touched her chest. "Iya," she said softly, then ducked her head. "Thank you," she continued, so quietly he barely heard it before she blushed and scampered away to sit with the other teenaged girls. Zuko heard their giggles and sighed, even as the girl's thanks warmed him.

Auka emerged from the tent as Zuko finished his dinner, calling instructions over her shoulder and then sitting down with a sigh. She threw more logs onto the fire and then looked at Zuko, raising her brows.

He rolled his eyes and raised his hand and the fires licked eagerly at the logs, flaring up as Auka nodded approvingly; Zuko leaned back and sighed, crossing his arms and ankles. They watched the flames quietly, the tension of the past week replaced by fatigue. Zuko idly rubbed the scratches on his chest; they were shallow, but stung in the cooling air.

Auka interrupted the silence by suddenly blowing air from between her teeth. "You," she said quietly, and Zuko looked up despite himself. "I see… they give you name." She laughed softly; he frowned, and she said that odd word, the one with too many k's and l's for him to ever quite catch. His frown deepened, and she seemed to consider him, looking like her cousin for a moment as she tipped her head.

She leaned forward. "You," she said again and poked him in the chest; Zuko tried not to flinch, but she retracted her hand and settled back on her heels and repeated the word, slowly and carefully. He frowned again and she repeated the word again and he closed his eyes and tapped his fingers against his knee to measure the syllables, trying to remember the odd collection of syllables.

"'Taaaaaaaal iiiii kuuuuuu taaaaak," she said once more, the word suddenly breaking into recognizable sounds.

"'Tal-ikutak," he said carefully, and she nodded, a faint but triumphant smile on her face.

"You," she said again, and poked him in the chest again. "Name. 'Tal-ikutak."

He suddenly remembered the camp by the glacier, Sokka's face both somber and full of laughter as he pointed at Zuko and intoned that word, that _name_, and Zuko shivered suddenly as he saw the same expression mirrored in the chieftain's cousin.

He nodded, suddenly touched. "Thank you," he said softly.

Auka crossed her arms and leaned back and uttered a soft phrase. _You earned it today_.

* * *

Zuko sat quietly in the meadow the next morning, the sun warm on his face. He'd skipped his morning firebending, yesterday's fatigue still heavy in his limbs, and instead he meditated. The scratches on his chest throbbed faintly, the women stirred and chatted softly across the meadow; he heard the distant creek and the light breeze through the trees, the sun's fire warming the land around him; he tried to breathe with it, with the life surrounding him, and felt peace slip over him.

The sound of footsteps drew him from contemplation and Zuko opened his eyes as the woman sat down, a carefully polite distance away. He let his hands fall into his lap and stretched his neck, wincing as it popped loudly.

The woman hesitated, then spoke quietly. "You…" she gestured awkwardly at him. "You hurt." She pointed at his chest, the scratches half-concealed under his shirt. "Heal?"

Zuko considered her for a moment, how she didn't seem quite able to meet his eyes; the awkwardness felt different than that which had followed Auka's commands at the summer camp. Her eyes flickered up for a moment, and he finally nodded. "Yes," he said simply, and she nodded in return.

She rose and stepped closer to him, then knelt at his side, lifted her hand and drew water from the air. Zuko watched as it gloved her hand, began to glow, and he remembered that feverish first time he saw her, the concern in her ocean-blue eyes as she drew infection from his arm. That concern had vanished after the slave auction. _Maybe she didn't _want_ to own a slave_, he suddenly thought.

Then her hand was cool on his chest, nudging his torn shirt aside, and the mild sting of the cuts vanished. Zuko watched the woman's face as she worked; their eyes met briefly before she looked away and her cheeks flushed and he closed his eyes.

Her hand disappeared from his chest a moment later and he heard the water splash back on the ground as she moved away. They sat for a few moments in silence before she cleared her throat softly and Zuko opened his eyes. She stared at the ground in front of her before she finally spoke.

"You… helped save," she started, her voice firm but soft. "Auka… you…" She broke off and breathed deeply. "Thank you."

She looked up and Zuko nodded, unsure of how to respond and unwilling to repeat the words he'd whispered the previous night. Instead, he thought suddenly of a bedtime tale, the story of a slave who earned her freedom by saving her master's life, and he allowed himself just a moment of _hope_, but she looked away again before standing.

He sighed quietly. _Really, Zuko_, he thought, but then she raised a hand to her chest.

"_Katara_," she said quietly. "My name Katara."

She turned quickly and walked away before he could respond, making her way across the meadow back to their camp.

Zuko stared after her, watching her braided hair sway along her back with her steps.

_Katara_, he thought, rolling the name in his mind.


	17. Challenged

**Challenged**

_posted October 9, 2009_

* * *

"Ama!"

Tahnra raced across the clearing as Zuko emerged from the woods, the women before him. The little girl grabbed her mother's leg, looking up and speaking so quickly Zuko couldn't pick any meaning from the words. The woman – _Katara_ – smiled, crouching down to speak softly with her daughter and sweep her into a hug. Zuko smiled at the sight, relief at the reunion washing over him – then Tahnra caught sight of him over Katara's shoulder. Her smile widened as she squirmed free and ran to greet him as well.

Sharp laughter interrupted the moment as ahead on the path, Auka made a dry comment, her brow raised in gentle mockery – but her attention was soon drawn away by two children who hugged her with the same enthusiasm. Oblivious to the exchange, Tahnra grabbed Zuko's hand, still talking. "Whales – by camp. I saw!" She grinned and he couldn't help but smile back as she led him towards the camp. Katara fell in beside them and Tahnra grabbed her hand as well, skipping back to camp between the two adults.

The afternoon passed in quiet productivity after a pleasant midday meal, the Water Tribe's enthusiastic greeting warming Zuko. The women packed the plants carefully away into baskets, releasing him to join the fishers at the stream. The weirs had been finished in Zuko's absence; he stood with Iluah beside Arluk, a quiet man with the scarred hands of a woodcarver, as Sokka and Maktok gently kicked each one to test its sturdiness. The dancing that night seemed to describe great fish, leaping and swimming towards the waiting tribe.

* * *

Zuko savored his swim the next morning, feeling as if he sluiced weeks of sweat and dust from his skin, despite daily splashes in mountain creeks. He washed his clothes, too, standing thigh-deep in the sea to rinse dirt from the worn fabric. He stepped from the water refreshed, pulled on his clothing and heated his skin until the water steamed away, then started a relaxed firebending routine, slow forms punctuated by sharp kicks.

The woman sat at the top of the beach, hopping down from her log as he finished the form and turned. Neither bothered to speak or mark the start and instead they watched other, waiting. Zuko noted the sudden tension in her legs just before the woman raised her arms and the sea rose behind her.

_Katara_, Zuko reminded himself as he leapt away from a curling wave of water. _Her name is Katara_.

They stood together on the beach after the battle, both breathing hard and soaking wet as water drained away into the sea. The air seemed different, the silence almost companionable as sunlight played on the surface of the cove.

_Something's changed again_, Zuko thought, and watched her through the lashes of his good eye. Her face seemed relaxed, a smile playing on her lips as she stretched; her manner since the attack had been pleasant, almost friendly despite Auka's teasing and fussing. Her eyes remained guarded, but the hostility of weeks past had long vanished, replaced by something that now resembled… acceptance.

_I don't understand_, he thought, watching her from the edge of his vision. _I killed your husband_. He didn't know how to ask, wouldn't have even if he were fluent in Water Tribe, so Zuko simply stood with her a moment longer on the beach.

* * *

With the weirs finished, the Water Tribe turned their attention to the drying racks; working in teams, they moved each structure from the beach of the herring harvest to the beach below the salmon stream. Others ground sharp edges into shells or inspected boxes or performed countless other small chores on the beach and throughout the camp. The sun burned brighter in the sky as the day wore on, heating the land with the full force of summer and causing many of those working to strip down to breeches or loincloths or short wrapped skirts. Remembering his first weeks with the Water Tribe, Zuko refused the offered loincloth, keeping his hard-earned pants – though he did roll up the legs and forgo a shirt.

The tribe paused throughout the afternoon to drink deeply of clear stream water or forage in the shallows; Zuko surprised himself by finding that he had missed the cool salty taste of beach food while in the forest. He waded again from the sea once again as the young waterbender he'd saved – _Iya_ – approached him timidly, two other girls and a boy behind her. Iya dipped her head and glanced up at him quickly. "You…" she began in a quiet voice. "You… help heat?" she finished in a rush.

Zuko remained silent; she glanced up after a few moments and he caught her eye and raised his brow. "Show me," he said simply, unsure of what to expect.

Iya smiled brilliantly and bobbed her head, turning so rapidly she nearly knocked one of her confederates over. Zuko followed them to the end of the beach, where the three canoes filled with herring lay. A fire burned nearby and the branches and seaweed covering the fish had been removed. A ripe smell rose from them; Zuko carefully shifted himself so as to be upwind.

"We cook," Iya explained. "Make oil." She gestured towards the fire where smooth rocks lay in the new coals. "Heat rocks, heat fish…" she made a stirring motion as she continued, and Zuko nodded. "You… please… start heat?" she finished in a rush, her face flushing as she looked down again.

Zuko watched her for a moment, then stepped towards the nearest canoe. Fish lay piled atop each other, slimy and grey and far different than the sleek creatures they'd been during the harvest. He looked back at Iya, saw the hopeful expression on her face, on the faces of the other kids, and he sighed and knelt by the canoe.

The fish felt as slimy as they looked and Zuko suppressed his disgust as he reached his hand into the canoe and felt water pooled at the bottom. He concentrated and _reached_ and stirred the chi around him, heating the rancid mess. Interest replaced the hope on Iya's face; she leaned closer to watch as steam began to rise from the surface. Zuko shifted, dragging his arm through the fish, and the other girls scrambled forward with shallow paddles to move the mass around.

Soon – but not soon enough – the entire canoeful steamed; Zuko carefully withdrew his hand as the mass began to simmer. He heated the contents of the second canoe and the third as Iya and the boy also took up paddles; he finally rose and shook the slime from his hand, wincing as it splattered around him. Iya looked up from where she maneuvered heated rocks into the cooking fish with rocks and a leather sling; she smiled brilliantly again and Zuko couldn't help but smile back. "Thank you," she said, her voice tiny, and he shrugged, suddenly embarrassed.

"It was nothing," he muttered, but she tipped her head, not understanding, and he shrugged. "Good?" he finally asked, and Iya nodded, the other girls picking up the gesture as the boy stared at him with something akin to awe. Zuko nodded in return, feeling somehow foolish; he rose to his feet and tipped his head one more time before making his way down the beach to the clean, cold sea.

The slime adhered to his skin despite his furious scrubbing; he finally settled back on his heels and examined his hands. "Use this," Sokka said from right beside him and Zuko nearly pitched forward in surprise.

He looked up to see Sokka holding an evil-looking cluster of seaweed. Zuko took it gingerly, and Sokka squeezed one of the odd puffy leaves. It broke with a gentle "pop" and a clear gel oozed from the split. "Wash," he prompted, and Zuko spread the gel over his hands. It didn't lather like soap, but it took the slime away as he rinsed his hands again.

Sokka grinned and rose to his feet. "Making oil," he said with distaste, and thumped Zuko on the back. "You good man. Now," and his tone changed. "We move racks." Zuko looked at him in surprise; the chieftain sounded almost… _nervous_, antsy and unsettled, and all but a few racks had been resettled to the stream.

Sokka stood quickly and walked back towards the work before Zuko could think of how to ask, so he shrugged and followed.

They moved the last rack as twilight fell, settling it into the loose rock. Iluah nodded in satisfaction and spoke quickly with Sokka before turning back to the camp. To Zuko, he still seemed anxious. "Tomorrow, logs," he said as Zuko approached, then followed Iluah.

The men took their turn in the hot spring that evening, soaking pulled muscles and tired bodies. Zuko felt himself relaxing, almost _enjoying_ himself as conversations subsided around him. He'd missed the company of men, even as the plant-gathering expedition had given him the women's acceptance.

* * *

They dragged split logs across the beach the next day, aligning them between the salmon stream and the drying racks. The surfaces would be used to clean salmon on, Iluah explained, a more complicated process than cleaning herring. Most were weathered and silvered with age, showing the scars of past harvests; Zuko also helped Sokka split a fresh log, trading off pounding a stone wedge with a hammer.

Zuko wiped sweat from his face, catching his breath as Sokka took a turn with the hammer. The chieftain's odd nervousness remained, the jitteriness amplified as the day wore on. "Need more boxes," he muttered as he too stood, stretching his back. "Big harvest, this year." He seemed about to continue when a low thump stirred the air.

Zuko glanced at Sokka, but the chieftain had frozen in place, a stricken expression on his face as he looked towards the water. Another thump sounded, making the hairs on the back of Zuko's neck rise, and then another. _Drumbeats_, he realized as around them activity ceased and the Water Tribe looked out to the sea.

A second drumbeat joined the first, then a third as canoes pulled into view around the end of the bay. A grotesque figure stood at the lead vessel's bow, its head huge with a cruel beak, dipping and swaying as eerie wailing rose over the drumbeats. Zuko shivered as the tribe waited silently; he glanced again at Sokka, who stared intently at the lead canoe and its dancer. The figure leapt and stomped, its dark cloak billowing in the breeze as the drums beat faster and the vessels angled towards the shore.

Sokka yelled suddenly, throwing up his arms before running down the beach. Around him, the tribe relaxed as their chieftain plunged into the water, some going back to their work while others looked on with amusement. Zuko watched with apprehension as Sokka swam strongly towards the canoes; farther down the beach, his sister raised her hands and gently pushed them forward and Zuko saw the currents move, helping Sokka towards the canoe.

The drums stopped with a final crescendo as the paddlers paused in their strokes, the dancer standing tall and proud in the bow, beak extended to the sky. Sokka swam the last strokes, reached up to grabbed the canoe's gunwales; he started to pull himself over the side when the dancer lifted one foot, set it against his forehead, and pushed him back into the water – but he grabbed that foot and _pulled_ before the dancer could draw it away.

A shriek echoed along the beach as the dancer fell forward into the water and its mask – for Zuko now saw it for a mask, carved in the likeness of a fierce bird – fell backwards into the canoe and the Water Tribe laughed. Zuko felt a smile pull at his own lips as Sokka and the dancer surfaced together, laughing and sputtering; they embraced each other and swam towards the shore.

They stumbled out of the water together and embraced again, pulling each other close. _A woman_, Zuko realized as Sokka drew her into a deep kiss, red and white paint streaked across her laughing face, deep green robes soaking wet and strings of shells clicking around her wrists and ankles.

"Long time," Zuko heard her say, the words sharp and accented, as she straightened and faced the gathering tribe. Katara moved first, embracing her warmly; other members of the Water Tribe stepped forward with greetings as the canoes pulled onto the beach, green-clad warriors stepping lightly into the shallows. A commotion arose as children struggled from the vessels, splashing up the beach. They ran to Sokka and he dropped to his knees and tried to hold all three of them at once while his grin stretched wider than ever and his laughter rang through the air.

Zuko watched this reunion from a distance, bemused. _Sokka's children_? he wondered as Tahnra ran down the beach to stand with her mother.

Sokka rose to his feet, holding the youngest child in one arm and taking the dancer's hand with the other, drawing her forward. He nodded at Zuko, then spoke quickly. "'Tal ikutak. He slave…" Sokka continued but Zuko didn't catch the words; the anger surged and he struggled to control it, knowing that now was not the time – but Sokka kept speaking, the words for "fish" and "journey" and "heat" standing out more than the word for "slave" had.

The dancer nodded, her expression changing from surprise to understanding. She seemed to size him up, looking at him from head to foot with an intensity that made him feel awkward, then turned to Katara and made a soft comment – Katara's face flushed red as she glanced at Zuko, then away with a hiss. Tahnra looked between the adults, her face crinkled in childish confusion.

The dancer laughed and Sokka joined in, then turned to Zuko. "This Suki. Warrior of Kyoshi," he said, warmth and humor in his tone, then his voice softened. "Mother," he said with an odd ending to the word, and nodded to the child in his arms. "Aila," he said softly, and the girl blinked up at Zuko with sleepy blue eyes.

"Up!" Tahnra demanded, and Zuko picked her up, leaning back against her weight. "Aila," she repeated with a grin, and her cousin smiled back.

* * *

The Warriors of Kyoshi were guests of honor at a feast that night; the Water Tribe produced still more fragrant dishes from the same staples of sea food and fish and tubers and greens, and the dancing and singing lasted late into the night. The Kyoshi took their turns dancing, the movements sharp and different than those of the Water Tribe, suggesting giant predators that walked in human guise.

Katara sat with Auka and Suki; the three bent their heads together, talking and laughing quietly between dances. Sokka sat with Aila and his other children, a girl named Sanya and a boy named Karok, all piled atop him, his grin huge. Akiak sat in his usual place on Zuko's lap and Tahnra leaned against him, watching her cousins and occasionally smiling up at Zuko. Around them, the rest of the Kyoshi sat interspersed with the Water Tribe, listening and watching with an air of warm alliance between two peoples.

* * *

Katara waited on the beach again the next morning, eyes closed and leaning back against the log as Zuko finished his firebending form; he dragged his feet though the rocks to draw her attention. She woke with a flinch; he sank into a starting form and a smile came to her face.

After sparring, they stood together on the beach again, watching the water. Katara moved her hand idly, seeming to sort through the currents in the water. "Soon," she said with certainty.

The day passed in pleasant idleness; with the weirs built, the drying racks and smokehouse ready, the split logs in place, the knives sharpened and the oil rendered, everything awaited the salmon's return – including the Water Tribe. Zuko picked his way slowly along the beach, idly tracking the pack of children who played the shallows and shrieked with delight at the odd creatures who dwelt in tidepools. Sokka and a handful of other men moved with him, chatting companionably; most of the women had disappeared after the noon meal, leaving the children in the care of fathers and uncles.

_And me_, Zuko reminded himself as he settled into a patch of sun high on the beach; closer to the water, Akiak sat with Sokka's older daughter as the girl piled shells and sea wrack into shapes on the loose rock. The boy shook his head, pointing; Sanya moved a shell and he nodded, though his face stayed solemn. _They treat me like I'm a father._

Tahnra's wail interrupted his thoughts and he was on his feet and moving towards her before she inhaled for the second cry. He scanned the beach for threats out of reflex before crouching beside her; she stared up at him, wide grey eyes filled with tears as she clutched a skinned knee. Blood oozed slowly down her leg as Zuko gathered her carefully into his arms, rocking her gently. "It's okay," he said softly in his own tongue, wishing he knew how to say it in hers, but she must have heard the sincerity in his voice because her sobs quieted.

He heard footsteps behind him and looked up as Katara sat carefully before him. She smoothed Tahra's hair as the little girl sniffled, then drew water from the sea and lay her palm on Tahnra's knee. Zuko felt her relax as the water's glow diminished and Katara smiled softly at her daughter. Tahnra sniffed one last time, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, then launched herself at her mother, hugging her tightly.

Katara met Zuko's eyes over her daughter's head for a moment. _Thank you_, she mouthed without sound, and Zuko shrugged, suddenly unsure how to respond.

Later, unnoticed by Zuko, Suki and Sokka disappeared and didn't return for the evening meal or the dancing that followed. Katara settled Aila, Sanya, and Karok into bed with Tahnra and Akiak that night; when Zuko retired, he slept between the bundle of children and any threat from the outside.

* * *

Zuko stood with Katara again the next morning, watching the cove after sparring. "Today," she said softly, but didn't move except to drop her hands and they stood together on the beach as the sun rose high in the sky.


	18. Drained

**Drained**

_posted October 11, 2009_

* * *

Zuko stumbled forwards, struggling to maintain his balance as his foot slipped and his spear missed the huge, squirming fish moving through the water. Long as his arm, with a humped back and wickedly curved jaw, the salmon were monsters compared to the herring: glistening red with silver-green fins and tails, throwing themselves upstream without regard for the current, the weirs, or the fishers who stood with barbed spears and nets and clubs ready.

Zuko lunged again as the fish leaped up the slot in the weir; the spear missed by inches as the fish gained the upper pool and swam towards the next weir, leaving Zuko drenched and empty-handed.

True to Katara's prediction, the salmon had returned early in the afternoon, the leaders surging from the sea to leap up the steam as the Water Tribe and Warriors of Kyoshi sang and danced and drummed in welcome. They took only a handful of fish that first day, a privilege given to the oldest fishers, who cleaned and roasted them with the reverence of ancient ceremony. The celebration lasted late into the night, with every person in the camp eating of the salmon's rich, red flesh as they honored it with song.

The harvest started early the next morning with a controlled fervor that exceeded the herring harvest even in its first day. _At least there's no nets this time_, Zuko thought. The stream water made the sea seem warm in comparison, but the fishers stood on gravel bars or the mossy stream banks as they drew fish from the water with spears and nets and sometimes their bare hands.

They timed the catches carefully, matching pace with those who cleaned the salmon. The fishers carried each fish to the split logs, where cleaners split them along the back, spilling the slime and entrails into baskets while keeping the rich belly meat intact. Rather than string them onto lengths of cord, each cleaned fish hung to dry by its tail, tied individually to the drying racks. Females required an extra step to scoop glistening red eggs into special baskets; once cooked, the eggs became one of the Water Tribe's most prized delicacies.

Iluah explained the care needed to coordinate this process; the fishers must not catch faster than the cleaners could gut, else the salmon's souls would be displeased by the implied greed and refuse to return to the stream. In those first days, the fishers often paused as cleaners worked to keep up, allowing more salmon to make their way upstream to spawn undisturbed and ensure that future harvests would be bountiful.

Frustrated, Zuko cast his spear to the side and instead stood with his hands outstretched, waiting as a large salmon swam through the pool, seeking the exit through the weir. He watched it, tracked its movements, tensed – and lunged; its skin was slippery beneath his fingers but he held it tight and shifted his weight and lifted it from the water as it struggled far more wildly than he would have expected.

Shouts rose behind him and then Maktok struck the flopping salmon; it stilled in Zuko's arms and he nodded in appreciation to Maktok. "Good!" Sokka said to both of them, and Maktok flushed red with pleasure as Zuko nodded again.

He carried the fish carefully to the cleaning area, hooking his fingers under its gills the way he'd seen other fishers; surely its soul would be angered if dropped on the ground. As with the herring catch, most fishers were men and most cleaners were women, but one elderly man deftly split and cleaned fish all day, while Iluah and several other women speared fish beside the men.

Children Tahnra's age and older ran between the cleaners and the fishers, carrying messages and snacks as needed. She seemed to be engaged in a competition with Sokka's son Karok; the two alternated laughing and scowling at each other throughout the day. She trotted past Zuko as he carried the fish, smiling broadly. "I help!" she said again – last year, she had explained solemnly, she had been too young.

Tua, the elder who seemed so fond of him, greeted Zuko with a smile as she took the fish from his hands. She gestured to the fire with a short question; Zuko fanned the dying flames with a stir of his chi and the new log placed atop the coals caught quickly. Tua smiled at him again with an appreciative word as she lifted her knife and he turned back to the stream.

On the way, he passed a pair of the Kyoshi Warriors, standing sentinel through the woods and along the beach in pairs and with other members of the Water Tribe. They stood watch for bears, Sokka had explained, raising his hands and stalking towards his children before grabbing Karok and tickling him without mercy. Suki waved to him, grinning broadly; beside her, Katara turned and Zuko nodded in greeting to them both.

He settled back into his position at the stream, the gravel cool under his feet. Another great fish entered the pool, its back humped and shining red over the water. _I wonder how long _this_ harvest will last_, he thought as the fish neared.

* * *

The harvest continued as they worked from sunup to twilight, the catch only increasing as the days passed. A briny odor began to waft downstream on occasion, the smell of salmon rotting on the shore after they spawned and died, their carcasses providing nutrients for the plants and insects their young would eat. Meanwhile, the drying racks remained full, the smokehouse almost overflowing despite the number of fish who slipped by the fishers to reach the spawning grounds. Two older women tended the smokehouse, slashing each dried fish to expose more flesh to the smoke and its preservative qualities.

"Salmon _winter_ food," Iluah explained one afternoon, which sustained the tribe during the long cold months of the sacred season. The boxes of smoked fish, packed carefully in oil against rot or mold, were proof against starvation – and displayed the tribe's wealth.

"Other houses, they jealous," Sokka bragged. "Suki and Kyoshi help bring great fortune to Wolf House." He snorted. "And Shark." He gestured irritably at Auka, who packed strips of preserved fish into a box; with sudden clarity, Zuko realized that its carvings depicted a great sleek fish, sharp teeth and rows of gills differentiating it from the salmon carved on other boxes. _She 'married the Shark' – she married someone from the Shark House_, he thought, finally understanding Sokka's words from weeks previous.

The Warriors of Kyoshi brought their own boxes, carved with subtly different designs, bold and curving and painted green with red and white rather than the Water Tribe's narrow blue and grey and black patterns. Their relationship with the Water Tribe seemed odd at first to Zuko, as few of the warriors fished. As the harvest wore on and more bears gathered upstream or wandered through the camp, however, the mutual benefits became clear.

He turned back to the stream as a shout split the air, followed by a deep snarl; Zuko sprinted towards the end of the beach, beyond the last drying rack. A second shout rang in the still afternoon as the growling changed pitch, suggesting bestial fury. He reached the scene in as Suki charged at a huge, grizzled bear, brandishing a metal sword; she smacked it on the snout with the hilt and leapt away before it can swipe at her. The bear shook its head and growled again, but Suki feinted forward and it turned reluctantly to the woods, ambled away and still growling.

Zuko watched it go as Suki walked over to him. "Lazy," she said with a grin. "Lots fish, but take ours." She looked him up and down as Zuko tried to relax, his muscles still tense and ready for a fight. "You warrior?" she asked.

Zuko shrugged, which Suki seemed to find amusing; she laughed as Sokka ran into the clearing.

"Bear?" he asked, sounding breathless, and Suki smiled before kissing him warmly.

She broke away to elbow him in the gut. "_Warrior_," she said, and Sokka yelped, his expression indignant. She laughed, the sound warm and pleasant, and pointed at Zuko. "We will fight." A snarl cut through the air, and she instantly sobered. "Later," she said, running towards the noise.

Zuko watched her go, not bothering to offer his assistance. Beside him, Sokka sighed gustily, the sound of a man deeply in love.

* * *

The pace increased as the harvest wore on; the cleaners found their rhythm and now split and hung fish almost faster than the fishers could catch them. The waterbenders kept busy as well, between catching, cleaning, and packing fish, and chasing away bears. Gashes from a slipped knife were common as teenagers learned how to gut a salmon with a few sharp strokes, while fishers skinned knees and elbows in plenty on the stream's wet rocks, and a few Kyoshi Warriors suffered gouges from an irritable bear intent on the drying racks.

From Tahnra to Kana and all in between, the Water Tribe and the Kyoshi worked constantly through the daylight hours, collapsing into bed without dancing or celebration, their only respite evening soaks in the hot springs. The former divisions of gender and age seemed forgotten as all found whatever relaxation they could between the endless streams of fish.

Zuko found himself sitting in the pools with Sokka and Suki and Katara and a handful of Kyoshi Warriors one evening, Tahnra and Akiak long asleep back at the shelters. He drifted in and out of the conversation, catching the occasional word as Sokka seemed to tell jokes and the Kyoshi seemed to laugh at him.

He blinked as the water changed levels, the Kyoshi clambering out of the pool, Sokka following with an indignant comment, and quiet fell onto the spring as he sat alone with Katara. The silence lengthened into awkwardness, a sharp contrast to the lively – if tired – conversation of moments previous.

_Say something, Zuko_, he thought, feeling the old familiar panic rise in his throat. "Sky… deep," he blurted, raising his hand to sweep it across the band of stars. He cringed, sinking deeper into the water despite the veil of darkness. _Stupid_…

He waited for the woman to sigh in disgust, to stand and leave him in solitude with only his mortification for company; Zuko closed his eyes and reviewed what he'd said, what he should have said, what he –

A quiet chuckle startled him from mental self-flagellation, Katara's laugh low and pleasant. She spoke softly, the words for "sky" and "mothers" and "ocean," "house" and "salmon" and "beach" standing out against the flow of consonants and vowels. The story's meaning slipped away from Zuko and he listened to her voice as he watched the stars vanish and reappear through the steam.

Her tone and cadence shifted, rising and falling gently until she came to the end. Silence settled between them again, and Zuko turned to look at her. Katara's face was turned towards him, dark pools of her eyes barely visible against her skin.

"I…" he started, but realized he had nothing to say to her, nothing that he could express in the simple words of fishing and cooking and fighting. "I… wish I understood what you're saying," he said slowly in High Fire Nation, the tongue of early memory. Its sharp gutturals sounded harsh after so long listening to the Water Tribe's flowing tones, but it was _his_ language. "And… that you understood _me_."

Katara seemed to watch him, her head tilted slightly, and Zuko turned his eyes back to the stars. "I speak four languages fluently, I know enough of three more to get by, and I can read and write Ancient Earth Kingdom like any noble, but…" He gestured helplessly, letting his hands fall back into the water with a splash. He studied the horizon, the contrast of dark sky against darker trees, and let out a deep breath. "I suppose I'll figure out your language eventually."

Neither spoke again, but this time the silence lay comfortable on the hot pool around them.

* * *

The harvest seemed to stretch for weeks or months as Zuko lost track of the time, knowing only that the equinox now drew closer than the solstice as the last salmon struggled up the stream to the beat of drums.

That evening, the merged Water Tribe and Kyoshi paused to breathe; they prepared no grand feast and none rose in a dance of celebration, but they sat and ate and talked together as afternoon deepened to twilight. The salmon was delicious, steamed and smoked and baked and roasted, plain and salted and with herb-flavored oils.

The first batch of salmon eggs had been cooked carefully by Kana herself, heated in a basket with fire-hot stones; she had commandeered Zuko for one long morning to heat stones one by one, which earned him a spoonful to taste when she finally declared the delicacy finished. Now, Kana distributed the treat to the gathered tribes, smiling gravely at warm compliments and praise. The eggs were salty and savory with a slippery richness that Zuko enjoyed beside his salmon.

Canoes departed for the main village the next afternoon, bearing the first part of the harvest back in boxes and baskets; they returned a few days later, Hakoda sitting in the steersman's seat of the lead canoe. The chief greeted his tribe and his son warmly, but held a certain reserve for Suki. "Not married," Katara whispered as Suki held Aila, her posture radiating a defiance that Zuko understood.

Karok broke the tension by running to his grandfather, a touch of Sokka's bravado in his short stride. Hakoda gave Suki one last glance before crouching down to pull the boy into a warm hug, then released him. _"Look how you've grown!"_ he exclaimed, a grandparent's pride giving the words meaning.

The canoes also brought more empty boxes, weathered with age. "More fish?" Zuko asked as Sokka nodded in satisfaction.

He looked at Zuko in surprise. "Those," he gestured towards the horizon, indicating the boxes of fish that had been returned to the village. "_Aisok_ salmon. Soon, guwan salmon and hako salmon." He paused to take in the boxes being carried up the beach. "Need more boxes," he muttered, stooping to heft one and carry it up the beach.

_More fish_, Zuko thought to himself as he followed Sokka's example.

* * *

A pleasant interlude passed between harvests as late summer doldrums bathed the land in heat, burning the grasses gold against deep green trees and wide blue sky.

Arluk the woodcarver led a handful of men in repairing the old boxes and making new ones. Using adzes set with curving animal teeth, they downed a tree at the end of the beach, then split it into thin planks and cut careful notches at intervals. Again commandeered, Zuko heated rocks for steam and helped bend the shaped planks into neat boxes. Once dried in the sun, they stitched the corner seams closed and the bottoms in place, creating waterproof seams that would hold fish and oil during winter's long months.

Small groups of women left on short gathering expeditions, returning after hours or overnights with baskets of pungent plants that dried quickly in the heat. No plant seemed as important as those gathered from the high mountain meadows, though, and Zuko said a small prayer of thanks that he was not asked to accompany them again.

The waterbenders resumed their daily practices, sparring occasionally with Zuko; the Warriors of Kyoshi and the Water Tribe warriors also trained together, trading techniques in a broad grassy meadow a few minutes' walk from the camp. True to her word, Suki singled Zuko out for a fight soon after they had recovered from the harvest.

"You," she said, her tone friendly; he heard the word "'Tal-ikutak" often in their conversations, but no one ever addressed him as such – a fact that Zuko appreciated. "Fight now?" she asked, and he shrugged. She grinned in response and gestured to his swords, resting on the grass nearby.

Zuko raised his brow and she nodded; behind her, Sokka called something out, his tone speaking of wounded pride. Suki only laughed in response as she strapped a round wooden shield to her left arm, then drew her sword from its scabbard.

They faced off in a broad circle of Water Tribe and Kyoshi, the waterbenders halting their practice to watch as well. Zuko twirled his swords in his hands, slashing quickly before settling into a waiting stance; he breathed in and out deeply as Suki stood opposite, weight balanced evenly between her feet. They ignored the mutters and cheers from the spectators, each focusing on the other in the way of warriors, and Zuko knew suddenly that this would be a good fight.

Suki moved first, running towards him with short, quick steps; Zuko shifted lightly aside and they circled each other, jabbing and retreating to test the other. Suki grinned as he blocked each swipe, and Zuko felt himself smirk as his swords rang against her blade, thudded against her shield. Their speed increased as neither found an opening, dodging and countering in a way that was nothing like bending, nothing like his brief dual with Takuak months ago, and he laughed aloud with the thrill of a plain fight, sword against sword.

It ended too quickly, as Suki twisted her sword against one of his, making him drop it as her blade reached his neck – but Zuko brought his other sword up and held it against her chest, the weight of his shoulders behind his arm. They watched each other for a moment, panting with the exertion, then laughed together as they dropped their arms. "Good fight," Zuko said, and gestured at her sword. The folded steel blade shone, wholly unlike the weapons of either the Water Tribe or the other Kyoshi. "Where get?" he asked.

She held the blade up, the instinctive move of warriors comparing weapons, and he accepted it. "Ship," she said, gesturing with her other hand, her voice still breathless. "Traded. Many sea otters."

Zuko nodded absently as he examined the blade. A line of elegant characters were etched into the blade, near the hilt: the distant craftsman's seal. _Made in the Earth Kingdoms_, he thought, handing the sword back to Suki. He clasped his hands in the formal gesture, bowing low to her; she returned it with a smile and Zuko stepped away to retrieve his fallen sword.

Katara watched him as she stood, an odd frown on her face. Zuko tilted his head in response. "What, you want to fight, too?" He set both swords together and sheathed them, lay them aside in the grass and sank into a bending form, raised his brow in challenge. Her frown deepened as she swept her hands up; the creek rose behind her as the fight started without a mark.

Distantly, Zuko noted how attention shifted to this fight, the Water Tribe and Kyoshi breaking off their own practice and conversation to watch the duel, the clash of two elements. _I never understood why benders don't learn blades_, Zuko thought as he drew a wall of fire up to steam away the stream of water thrown at him. The motions were different, the weapons different, but the intent, the block and parry and push were the same, and they fell into the patterns familiar from their morning fights, from their glorious solstice dance. Instead of relaxing, however, Katara seemed to tense, frustration coloring her normally smooth face as her movements became fierce.

Zuko dodged a volley of ice arrows, creating an arc of flame in return, then readied himself to duck as she charged him, the creek rolling forward with the motion. Instead of the expected deluge, Katara herself crashed into him first, driving the air from his lungs as he topped backwards and the wave forced them down to the ground.

As the water drained away, Zuko became suddenly aware of Katara's weight atop him, her legs askew and straddling his waist as she gasped for breath; he started to roll away but ice exploded from the wet ground, trapping his hands. Triumph slid across her face as she looked down at him, breathing heavily, her hair escaped from its bindings and loose around her shoulders and brushing against his stomach. He felt the fire in his veins, knew that he could steam the ice away and throw her off without trouble, but as Katara's expression changed from triumph to something else, something he recognized but couldn't name.

They both started as a whistle broke the moment, long and low and appreciative, and Katara flushed deep red under her bronzed skin; she struggled to her feet, jabbing him in the gut in the process and walking away quickly. Suki whistled again and around her the warriors and waterbenders laughed as Zuko stared after her, his face hot.

_What… just happened?_

* * *

The hako and guwan salmon arrived to more dances and drumming, plunging the Water Tribe and Warriors of Kyoshi into an even more intense harvest than that of the aisok. The guwan salmon were grey-green with red along their backs and grew _huge_, half as long as Zuko was tall, while the hako were sleek and silver with a sheen of red. They swarmed up the stream, seeming to displace the very water with their numbers while all but the very youngest children worked smoothly together to catch, dry, and pack away incredible volumes of fish.

Through the haze of slime and smoke and dwindling summer days, Zuko found his eyes drawn to Katara, how her hasty glances and blushes mirrored his. As he carried yet another fish to the cleaners, he remembered their last fight, the sunlight warm and golden as they stared at each other. _Something's definitely changed_.


	19. Raided

**Raided**

_posted October 13, 2009_

* * *

The salmon harvest ended as had the first, accompanied by drums and a sense of weary satisfaction. The last fish leapt up the stream as warm breezes gave way to a late-summer storm, blustery rain spattering on the beach. The Water Tribe and Kyoshi Warriors ate that night under tarps stretched near the cook fires, collectively breathing a sigh of relief that the long harvests had ended.

"No more fish?" Zuko asked Sokka as they both stepped to the fire to fill their bowls; the chieftain looked at him oddly, then burst out laughing.

"No," he finally said, wiping at his eyes. "No more fish this year." His face held sadness, though, as he glanced towards Suki, their children sitting beside her, and Zuko dropped his gaze, unsure of what to say.

Sokka clasped his shoulder in passing, sitting down beside Suki and pulling Aila into his lap. Zuko watched for a moment as Suki returned the chieftain's smile, Sanya and Karok briefly fighting over the space between their parents. _I suppose they'll go back to Kyoshi Island, wherever that is_. He sighed to himself, sitting down near Katara, Tahnra and Akiak between them.

"Good harvest," Katara said softly, and he looked up at her, blowing on the fish in his bowl before taking a bite. "Good winter, this year."

Zuko swallowed hastily. "… Good," he said, then winced. _Stupid_… but Katara smiled at him, then looked down in time to catch Akiak's bowl before it spilled on the ground before him.

* * *

Zuko swam the next morning under a grey sky; the air felt heavy as clouds rolled overhead, thick and grey and menacing. The beach was empty when he finished his warm-up bending form and he tried to stifle his disappointment as he walked back to the camp alone.

The Water Tribe and Kyoshi Warriors moved quickly between the camp and the canoes when Zuko returned, the preparations for leaving well underway. Teams worked to move supplies from the camp to the beach, to load boxes into the canoes, to secure the cargo for the voyage. Sokka stood with Hakoda overseeing the effort, his expression serious and a little sad as Zuko stepped forward to help Maktok hoist a box into one canoe. The boy grinned at him in thanks as they handed it off to a waiting tribesman.

Gusts of wind swept across the beach, shivered in the trees beyond as they worked quickly, glancing often at the sky, collectively hoping the rain would hold off until the loads were safely stowed. A particularly strong gust blew over the canoes, catching a tarp that hadn't been securely tied down and setting it flapping furiously. Two Kyoshi Warriors leapt forward to wrestle it down, tying it in place over a bundle of goods.

As the noise subsided, Zuko heard a distant thump – a drumbeat, deeper than that which had heralded Suki's arrival. Another thump cut the air and all activity on the beach ceased as both Water Tribe and Kyoshi Warriors looked to sea; Zuko briefly noted their expressions, ranging from stricken to anxious to angry, before he followed their gazes. The empty air seemed to hold a charge, like the moments before a lightning strike, the drumbeats menacing as the wind shifted and chanting drifted to his ears.

Suki shouted first and the Kyoshi sprang into activity around her. Sokka echoed her call, turning towards the children and elders high on the beach. "Go, go, go!" he shouted, gesturing wildly, as around him warriors scrambled to pull spears and shields from the half-packed canoes.

The drumming increased as canoes rounded the headland, huge vessels with wide, upthrust bows, painted in black and blue designs with red shot through them. They paddled wide into the bay – out of arrow range, Zuko realized as around him a handful of Water Tribe men drew their bows and waited. They Kyoshi formed up before them, shields held ready, and Zuko tore his gaze from the beach, from the distant canoes to sprint to where his swords rested near the cook fires, safe from the sea's corrosive spray. He stumbled back down the beach as another tier of Water Tribe men assembled, long spears and short knives held ready.

The canoes drew closer, the wide bows shielding the paddlers from arrows as they came into range, the drumming and chanting ever louder, and the Water Tribe and Warriors of Kyoshi waited. Zuko drew his swords from their sheath, separating them and shifting his weight forward.

The noise drew Sokka's attention. "You!" he shouted, pointing his spear at Zuko, then sweeping it towards the retreating elders and mothers and children. "_Go!_ Guard!" Zuko followed the motion with his eyes and saw Katara and Auka shepherding them towards the broad grassy plain behind the camp. Zuko hesitated, jerking his sword towards the approaching canoes, but Sokka gestured fiercely. "_Go!_ Help guard _children_!"

Understanding flooded Zuko and he turned, thinking suddenly of Tahnra and Akiak, their young cousins; he recognized the emotion in Sokka's eyes as _fear_ – not of the battle, but for his children. _I understand,_ he thought as he sheathed his swords, sprinted to catch up with the children and the elders, the future of the tribe beside its wisdom. _I'll protect them._

Beyond the beach, beyond the cookfires still burning low in their pits, waterbenders hurried their charges along, holding hands and cajoling the youngest. Zuko barely slowed to a walk beside Katara, scooping Akiak up with one arm and taking Sanya in the other. Tahnra and Karok held both her hands but she tilted her head sharply. "Rocks – hide there." Zuko didn't stop to nod before jogging forward, holding both children tight as he ran.

Most of the defenseless had already reached the shallow rock shelter, a ledge that jutted from the hillside defining the meadow. Iluah seemed to direct those huddled there, standing before the ledge and urging children and elders to sit clustered together; her voice was low and calm even as she fingered a short metal dagger.

Zuko crouched down before Kana, setting Akiak into her outstretched arms and Sanya beside her. The elder nodded at him, gravity in her eyes. "Go," she said firmly, and Zuko tore himself from Akiak's frightened gaze to run back to where Katara struggled across the meadow. He pulled Karok up into his arms and Katara picked up Tahnra and together they closed the distance to the shelter, depositing both children near their siblings and turning back to the open meadow.

Auka stood in the tall grass, halfway between the shelter and the cookfires; three other women stood beside her, all adult waterbenders, their stances loose and ready despite the tension in their faces. Katara and Auka bent their heads together briefly, turned to the other women and shared a few brief phrases that Zuko didn't catch, then they fanned out across the open ground and waited. Water snaked up from the creek, from the marshy ground, undulating in the air before them.

Zuko caught Katara's gaze and she nodded to the open ground before them. _Offense to her defense_, he thought, and nodded in understanding. He jogged forward, thinking of Tahnra and Akiak huddled against Kana, their cousins beside them, Iya's wide eyes and Tua's grim silence, Sokka's trust and Katara's understanding, and his earlier resolve erupted into ferocious determination as shouts rang suddenly from the beach.

The moments of waiting seemed the longest in his life, stretching by as the shouting continued, joined by the thud and scrape of weapons meeting, fierce Kyoshi war calls and Water Tribe howls. Memories of a months-ago fight rose involuntarily, the scrape of his own swords against wooden spears and iron daggers, the wild cries of warriors and the shrieks of his crew. Zuko blinked to clear the images from his mind and shifted his grip on his sword handles as shapes moved near the beach.

Three figures broke suddenly from the trees, running low across the ground; Zuko drew fire from the air as he heard the rush of water behind him and the warriors stopped, startled by the flames as water snaked forward. They dodged at the last moment, clearly familiar with waterbending tactics, but Zuko let the flames streak from his swords as he leapt towards them. He saw fear in their eyes as they scattered; water burst from the ground and enclosed one of them in a shimmering cage that froze solid around his legs.

The other two lasted only moments longer as Zuko slashed at them, distracting them long enough for the waterbenders to incapacitate them as well. He waved in thanks behind his back, not taking his eyes from the beach as he heard more shouting, an anguished scream followed by brief silence. Two more enemies ran from the beach, but they too proved no match for six experienced benders.

The sounds of battle gradually ceased and Zuko allowed himself to breathe deeply, relax his stance for a moment; he distantly heard the splash of paddles and hoped that it signaled victory. He tensed again as two figures appeared from the beach, but both wore Kyoshi green and gestured urgently to the benders.

"Over. Need Kana," one said as she approached, waving towards the shelter. "And you." She nodded at Katara and Auka, then at the beach. She said something else as one of the benders jogged back towards the shelter, a word like _slave_ included in the sentence, but the meaning eluded Zuko even as Katara nodded grimly.

He followed Katara and Auka as they followed Kana through the meadow and back towards the beach. The elder stopped near the cookfires, speaking softly with Hakoda as they took in the scene. A few still bodies dressed in black and blue and red lay sprawled awkwardly on the beach but more were being bound as captives, grim-faced Kyoshi and Water Tribe warriors tying wrists and hobbling ankles. Two war canoes lay abandoned at the tide line, rocking gently in the water, and Suki sat near the cookfire, her face ashen and a nasty gash across her arm but otherwise unharmed. Katara started forward, water already gloving her hand, and Zuko stepped farther down the beach.

Sokka crouched near the tideline beside a still form, clasping its hand; _Maktok_, Zuko realized as ice reached down his spine. Auka knelt beside the boy and drew water to her hands even as Sokka shook his head. _I hope it was fast_ was all Zuko could think as he stared at the corpse, remembering the awkward boy who learned to fish beside him.

Sokka wiped his eyes and struggled to his feet; Zuko saw his face before he turned, all tenderness erased and replaced by a cold rage. He barked at the other warriors; Suki called out to him, pointed to two of the Kyoshi who stood with their feet planted on the back of an enemy warrior. Zuko fell into step behind Sokka as the chieftain stalked towards the fallen man, who squirmed and cursed but couldn't gain the leverage to rise. A wooden helm lay on the beach beside him, downy white plumes splashed with blood.

Sokka's expression hardened and he barked at the warriors; one reached down and grabbed the captive by his hair, pulling him up and kicking his back, forcing him to kneel. Necklaces of fine white shell lay around his neck, a beaten copper breastplate glinted beneath them; he spat at Sokka and cursed, arrogance and hatred overshadowing his youth. Sokka stared down at him, shaking with rage, a demand in his tone as he gestured to the beach, to the enemy warriors bound and kneeling beside each other near the surf. Zuko didn't understand the words, but he saw the meaning – _Why?_

Then he glanced at Maktok's still body; the chieftain squeezed his eyes shut and turned back to the captured leader, who spat on the ground and muttered something in the tone that in High Fire Nation would mean _just a dog_.

Sokka backhanded him and blood spattered from the youth's nose and mouth; he shook his head and sneered up at the chieftain. Sokka spat on the ground and barked an order to his warriors and one handed him a spear; he stood, speaking low and cold – _die like a dog, then_ – as he lowered the spear and Zuko realized with wrenching clarity that he was about to witness an _execution_, a cold-blooded killing.

"No!" he shouted before he realized it, stumbling forward, and Sokka looked up with irritation momentarily displacing the rage. "You can't just…" he struggled to find Water Tribe words, felt them slip through his memory like the sea through his fingers. "No kill," he finally said, trying to put conviction into his voice. Sokka's eyes narrowed and Zuko shut his own eyes. "No kill," he whispered.

Zuko heard movement before him, opened his eyes as Sokka turned away and raised the spear. Zuko leapt forward, pushing the spear aside as the captive looked on with surprise and disgust on his arrogant features. Sokka stared at Zuko angrily and Zuko met his gaze, seeing his sister's rage in the chieftain's cold blue eyes before he barked another order and the Water Tribe warriors surged in, pulling Zuko away.

"_No!_" he shouted, wrenching himself from their grasp and starting forward, but Sokka called out again and Zuko felt the prickle of his blood surging, then stilling, pressure building in his throat and in his limbs as rage filled him.

Zuko whirled to find Katara staring at him, her arms out-stretched as she forced him to his knees. His protest died in his throat, his tongue no longer obeying his commands, and Sokka spoke behind him, his low voice barely audible over the roaring in Zuko's ears. "… no understand… honor… _slave_…" The chieftain's voice stopped sharply, replaced by the sickening squelch of metal tearing through tissue. Zuko heard liquid splash onto the rocks behind him, smelled the tang of blood, and he shook against the Katara's invisible grasp.

Behind him, the captive gasped, then sighed, then he heard the sound of a body falling to the ground and Zuko found that he couldn't even close his eyes, she held him so tightly, and they stared at each other. He saw both determination and apology in her eyes and knew that she had wanted to stop the execution, too, but she stood holding his blood and his _choice_ in her hands and Zuko couldn't forgive her even as he couldn't look away.

The warriors muttered behind him and Zuko heard the scrape of a body dragged over rocks, leaving only he and Katara on the beach. She released him slowly and part of him wanted to collapse, but he held himself rigid against the tingling feeling of returning sensation. She stepped towards him, hesitance in her steps, but he turned away, refusing to look at her.

She sighed and Zuko heard the words for apology – _I'm sorry_ – leave her mouth, but he stared at the grey water and gave no response.

After an eternity or a few minutes, she turned and walked slowly away, rocks shifting beneath her feet, and he slumped backwards, watching the tide move up the beach, the waves reflecting the stormy sky. The first one brushed against his leg before Zuko finally rose and walked slowly back to the camp, numb emptiness making it harder to breathe than when Katara had held his blood.


	20. Ignored

**Ignored**

_posted October 16, 2009_

* * *

The enemy survivors were given away as slaves, smudged with charcoal rather than paint and bound with thin cords. They stood with heads bowed as Sokka spoke, his voice hard as he stood beside Hakoda. Zuko turned his head away, refusing to watch the ceremony even as he was forced to stand with the house. The chieftain's words blurred together as Zuko refused to pick meaning from them.

Why bother, after all – he was only a _slave_.

He felt his hands clenching and forced himself to relax; beside him, Tahnra looked up with worry in her wide grey eyes as she clutched his hand in both of hers but Zuko turned his head from her, too.

Memories of his own auction rose in his mind, that warm spring day when _he_ had stood stripped and painted before the tribe, been given away like livestock. Zuko forced the images, the _feelings_, the rage and helplessness down and instead looked hard around him, acknowledged the other _slaves_ standing in the crowd. They had worked and fished and sometimes danced beside the Water Tribe all summer, but would never share their choice or their _freedom_.

_You thought you had earned more than that_, he thought bitterly as the last slave was led to his new owner. _Always so trusting, Zuko_.

* * *

They buried Maktok that afternoon, laying his body on a rocky bluff not far from the camp and singing, the tone mournful and chilling. A single drumbeat ended the ceremony and the women and children and craftsmen left slowly as warriors piled smooth beach stones over the body. Sokka directed this process, watching with a nod or a shake of his head, occasionally watching the line of new slaves with narrowed eyes as they carried stones from the beach to the bluff.

The Kyoshi Warriors left the next morning, loading the last boxes into their canoes while fine misting rain fell on the beach. Sokka and Suki embraced for a long time with their children between them, but Zuko turned away and refused to watch, refused to acknowledge Suki's departure. Katara watched him from where she held a wave beneath the Kyoshi's canoes and his eyes caught hers for a moment as he turned, but he forced himself to keep moving, to let his gaze slide from hers without reaction as he crossed his arms and stood staring at the water.

The Water Tribe left that afternoon, poles and tents and baskets and hides and boxes of fish distributed between their own canoes and the two canoes claimed from the enemy warriors. The rain continued, pervasive and soaking everything in a slow, damp drizzle and Zuko shook his head frequently to clear water from his eyes; Sokka had offered him a broad woven hat, but he turned away and refused to speak and finally the chieftain had sighed, gestured to the canoe's front seat, and left him alone. He didn't even bother to steam the rain away, instead letting it run down his arms and under his shirt to pool with the water that collected in the bottom of the canoe.

* * *

Zuko foraged for his own meal that night, standing in the shallows and watching the cookfire bright against the forest's gloom. The basket simmering beside the fire, the fish baking in the coals smelled delicious, but Tua's form as she prodded the fire drove the hunger from his mind, for he realized for the first time that she tended it not from choice, but because Kana directed her to.

Sokka's words burned in his memory again, harsh and strained right before spilling a captive's blood on the ground. "… no understand… honor… _slave_." Zuko filled in meaning between those few words, _you can't understand, you're a _slave_ – how can you know honor?_ The rage and shame rose in him again, almost as bitter as Katara's hold over his blood and the worry in Tahnra's small face.

* * *

Sokka tried to hand him a full bowl the next night at the evening meal, its contents smelling rich and salty, but Zuko turned his head away and otherwise stayed motionless. Katara sat on the ground across the cook fire, Tahnra and Akiak in her lap, and he let his gaze slide away as Sokka sat down beside him.

The chieftain draped his arms over his bent knees and sighed; Zuko felt him watching, but refused to look at him in return. Sokka sighed again and started to speak, a long sentence that Zuko tried to ignore, but the word "Maktok" leaped from the long collection of sounds and he closed his eyes against the anger and the sorrow.

Sokka sighed again and spoke again, slower and more carefully. "He… _enemy_… no honor." He made a stabbing motion, thumped Zuko's back sharply with the tips of his fingers. _Stabbed in the back_, Zuko thought, even as he flinched at the touch. "No good. No good fight. Need death."

_The enemy leader fought dishonorably_, Zuko realized, but he remembered the cold rage in Sokka's eyes, the smell of blood spilled not in the heat of battle, but in retribution, _revenge_, as Zuko himself was cast aside, ignored. Bound like a slave to the will of another.

Trapped in that memory, those bonds, Zuko stayed silent, staring away from Sokka into the fire, and finally the chieftain sighed. He touched Zuko's shoulder briefly, then rose to his feet and left the fire circle. Zuko sat silently until the coals burned to almost nothing, the rest of the tribe long gone, before falling asleep leaning back against a log.

* * *

The main village had changed little when they finally reached it, days of dreary paddling later. The wide, sloping beach, the great houses arrayed in waving tall grass above the tideline; the monuments and carved declarations planted between them, the dark forest rising behind. Around him, the Water Tribe reunited, people from other houses rushing down the beach to greet friends and relatives after the summer apart, but Zuko ignored them as he had the first time he arrived at this village.

They feasted that evening, in one of the other houses – Auka's, he thought, noting the huge painted monsters on it, sharp teeth and gills like on her carved boxes, but then he told himself not to care, for why should the house matter to a _slave_? He sat behind Katara and Sokka and their family; Akiak watched him all evening with round, worried eyes, but the boy didn't approach him and Zuko didn't lean back in invitation.

He thought instead about escape, how the coast seemed as empty and impenetrable in reality as it had on his charts, how even if he were to try, he would either be stopped by that icy prickle of his blood freezing or die in the woods from exposure. He'd felt the chill of winter in the winds as they paddled and knew that he would not last long in his tattered clothing and bare feet.

He settled reluctantly onto the mat beside Katara's sleeping platform that night, exhaustion finally outweighing his will to fight at every turn. _I'm not giving up_, Zuko thought as he pulled the blanket over him. He felt the weight of Katara's concerned silence before he finally heard her sigh and turn away, and he lay awake for a long time, feeling the cookfire smolder into glowing coals.

* * *

Zuko swam the next morning, bent fire in a long, exhausting routine on the beach, sharpening his skills and stretching his muscles and his control. When he finally turned back to the shore, Katara waited, hesitance written in her posture, but he ignored her, walking past her and back to the lodge without acknowledging her presence. Her _control_.

* * *

Time passed, the days falling into a routine as they had before the summer harvest. Sokka and the warriors busied themselves with canoes and nets and paddles, probably making repairs and storing them away for the winter, but Zuko ignored the chieftain's invitations to help. He ignored Katara's glances, too, her odd hesitancy, but finally found that he could not ignore Tahnra. The girl dragged at him, tugged at his hands and talked at him with worry in her voice until he relented and walked with her, accompanying the waterbenders to their practice by the stream.

Akiak watched Zuko over his mother's shoulder, worry still written on his face, and Zuko finally sighed and allowed the boy to climb into his lap when they reached the clearing. Tahnra beamed at Zuko and then her brother as he sucked his fingers and murmured and something twisted painfully inside of Zuko, cold doubt seeping into his resolve as the heat of rage subsided.

Maybe the enemy leader _had_ deserved to die, maybe he _had_ stabbed Maktok – barely a teenager – in the back rather than felling him _honorably_ in battle. Maybe the execution was a way of remedying that dishonor, resolving a debt like some Northern orders taught… but Sokka's dismissal, Katara's outstretched hands and rigid hold despite the apology in her eyes burned in Zuko's memory.

Later, he found himself watching Katara, Akiak long since asleep and Tahnra weaving grass stalks together as she demonstrated a form for her students. _Why was I different_? he thought. _I killed your husband. Why didn't Sokka kill _me_? Why were you sorry?_ But Katara of course gave no answer, leaving Zuko alone to his bitter thoughts.

* * *

The rage passed, too, replaced sometimes by cold anger but more often by doubt and aching regret, and Zuko realized on one crisp morning that he missed the morning sparring, the feeling of matching skills with another bender, missed Katara's brief hesitant smiles – but then he thought again of how his blood had stilled, tingled in her grip and he closed his eyes against remembered fury.

That night, though, Zuko wondered why he should feel anything; he was only a _slave_, after all – but then his thoughts, never still, returned to how different slavery was in the Water Tribe; how even the new slaves wore no chains and bowed their heads with something like respect, rather than hate. How both Katara and Sokka still watched him with something like sympathy, rather than barking out orders. _I don't understand_, he thought yet again. _Am I just not free to have an opinion?_

His doubts were brought to the fore again when a group of men left the village a few days later, bows strung across their backs. "We hunt," Takuak said quietly, watching Zuko with veiled intensity. "You go?"

Zuko turned his head, not meeting his eyes. "No."

Takuak shrugged almost imperceptibly, shoulders slumping then straightening. "You can," he said as he walked away, and Zuko closed his eyes against the mingled fury and pain those quiet words stirred within him.

* * *

The rain returned a few days after the hunters left, its chill intensified, and Zuko draped a blanket around his shoulders against that never-ending drizzle. The waterbenders, of course, practiced despite the rain, and he sat sheltered by a tree's spreading boughs as Tahnra played with his hair, grown irritatingly long.

_Maybe I gave offense_, he thought despite himself. _Maybe I…_ but he couldn't continue the thought, couldn't consider the maybes.

_Why can't you ever _think_ before you speak? _he thought instead. _ You never _learn_, Zuko_. He wondered what Iroh would do, what he would say in advice, but he couldn't think of his uncle's kind face, his quiet words; he could only picture his father, the hardness in his eyes. He dreamed that night of the vaulted receiving room, chains weighing his hands and legs, his father's grating voice – _You've always been a slave, Zuko_ – the heat of fire on his face before he jerked himself awake.

He lay on his mat breathing hard, listening to the soft sounds around him as the nightmare faded. _It's okay_, he told himself. _It was just a dream. _Katara breathed deeply above him, close to the edge of her sleeping platform, and he allowed himself to miss her company for a moment, her soft smiles and proud bearing and fierce fights, Sokka's easy camaraderie and easier laugher, Hakoda's stern respect and Kana's grudging favor.

_They were never yours_, he reminded himself, turning away and shuffling to the edge of his mat. He didn't sleep the rest of the night and rose groggy the next morning to an empty beach that matched the aching emptiness inside him.

* * *

The equinox came and went unmarked by all save Zuko, still bound to the sun. The hunters returned a few days later with bundles of meat and antlers and rust-brown hides, delivering them into the care of women who roasted and smoked and scraped and tanned and rendered. The rain had lifted and the sun appeared intermittently between bright clouds and Zuko sat at the top of the beach, ostensibly watching most of the village's young children as they played beside Akiak.

Tua sat near him, bouncing an infant on her lap and cooing until the child ceased fussing. "You," she said after a time, and pointed at him with one gnarled finger. "Not good," she continued, frowning at him, and Zuko shrugged helplessly. She watched him closely, her eyes penetrating with the weight of age, and finally he sighed.

"_Slave_," he said, trying to convey his sense of frustration and confusion with that one word.

Tua laughed, surprising him, and he looked up to see her faint smile. "Not bad. Food." She gestured at the preparation on the beach, then the great houses behind them. "Warm. Safe." She smiled again, the deep lines in her face deepening. "Not bad."

But Zuko could only turn away, disgust at her acceptance joining the turmoil inside him.


	21. Given

**Given**

_posted November 20, 2009_

* * *

The Water Tribe was busy, Zuko soon noticed despite the detachment he tried to keep, preparing for some manner of celebration. Blankets and hats and boxes appeared, pulled from storage beneath the platforms, and women began to clean the great house with a vengeance. Zuko did his best to ignore the activity, sitting quietly with Tahnra and Akiak, but soon he found himself ordered outside.

"_Out_," Kana repeated and reluctantly, Zuko pried Tahnra from his leg and settled Akiak on a sleeping platform and left the house.

Sokka stood outside, greeting him with a careful smile. "Women's work," he said cheerfully, and Zuko nodded before he thought to stop himself. Sokka made no further comment, though, and turned away after a pause; Zuko stood for a long moment watching him join other men in piling stacks of driftwood and sea wrack into a careful tower before the lodge. They talked and laughed as they worked and Zuko soon felt uncomfortable holding back without helping, so he walked slowly along the beach.

Too soon, Zuko came to the end of the wide bay, the beach ending in a long rocky outcropping like a finger, the woods thick above it. As he turned reluctantly back towards the village, rising smoke caught his attention: smoke from the fire in Orvik's canoe shed. He measured his steps across the beach, took each one slowly and deliberately to stretch out the walk, but finally he stepped into the shed. Orvik bent over a half-carved canoe, a wooden tool in his hand; he looked up at Zuko with an impersonal frown.

"Need… heat?" Zuko blurted, then swallowed nervously, forced himself not to fidget as Orvik silently considered him.

"No heat," he said slowly, then straightened; his next words were appraising. "Carve." He gestured Zuko closer with a nod and repositioned his own hands on the tool, a piece of tooth set at an angle into a wooden handle. "_Adze_," he said carefully, and swung the tool. It bit into the wood and Orvik swung it again, using small, neat strokes to carve a long chip from the canoe, still little more than a log with a shallow channel down the middle. Orvik demonstrated again, then gestured to the channel, described with an arc of his hand and a stream of meaningless words that material was to be removed from the middle in straight cuts.

Zuko nodded and Orvik handed him the adze; he gripped it carefully, bent in the way that Orvik had, and swung it into the wood. It bit into the wood shallowly, but he drew it back and swung it again and soon Orvik nodded in satisfaction and turned away. Each stroke grew more confident and soon Zuko found a steady rhythm, setting and swinging and carving fragrant chips of wood from the canoe.

_It would be so easy_, he thought as he worked. It would be so easy to let himself slip back into the easy patterns of that summer, of working side by side with the Water Tribe as if he were an equal. It would be so easy if not for the still-simmering rage, and part of him wished he _could_ forget it, forgive the Water Tribe and forget the bitterness and loneliness. He'd almost allowed himself to any number of times, at Tahnra's laughter and Akiak's warm weight, but the memory of harsh commands, the feel of his blood stilling, made him feel sick and he ignored Katara's wounded looks and Sokka's disappointment when he deliberately turned his head away.

Zuko worked at the canoe until dark began to fall, and with it a damp chill that stifled the fires inside him, but he slept deeply and without dreaming that night.

* * *

The damp chill set into the air as the days shortened, but oddly the Water Tribe men stripped down rather than bundling on layers, wearing hats and loincloths and little else save blankets draped 'round their shoulders. Zuko refused at first to follow their example, but as the light rain continued and icy damp pervaded the air, he understood – layers would never dry in the damp but skins dried quickly before a warm fire. The rain soaked his own tattered clothing readily and after two miserable days spent constantly boosting his inner fires in vain, Zuko reluctantly accepted the loincloth Sokka offered him.

He continued to work in the canoe shed, seeking that small freedom and measuring small progress in the canoe, and felt as if he spent all his time eating, sleeping, or carving, but he found himself glad for the activity, for the Water Tribe's frenzy of activity around him: he couldn't stand to _think_ any more.

* * *

The celebration finally began on a clear day, sunny and chilly after the rain. The damp ground steamed as Zuko returned from his swim, the sea surprisingly calm after the first autumn storms.

Already the Water Tribe men gathered outside the great house, dressed elaborately in fine blankets and aprons with patterns woven into the material. They donned ornaments as Zuko watched: copper breastplates inlaid with teeth and carved headdresses crowned with feathers, strings of beads and shells around their necks and ankles. Hakoda moved between each man with a bowl of blue paint, marking stripes and dots and swirls on faces and arms and chests, careful patterns wholly unlike the slave auction's hasty marks.

Zuko stood well back from this preparation, arms crossed and hoping to avoid notice while unsure where to go or what to do, and he found himself for once lucky. The warriors stepped quickly into two lines, taking up drums and rattles as the first guests arrived from lodges down the beach. Hakoda stood before the house's mouth-opening, the stately picture of a chief's welcome as the warriors began to chant.

The guests nodded to Hakoda, exchanged pleasantries and stepped one by one into the house, stooping low to accommodate headdresses, and Zuko settled onto a driftwood log, intrigued despite himself. The ornaments were primitive, the painted house and stony beach no match for gilded halls and tiled courtyards, but Hakoda greeted his guests with grace fit for any lord in the Fire Nation. Zuko recognized Auka and her husband, Takuak and other hunters, Orvik who caught his eye and nodded once before Zuko looked away hastily.

At length, the procession drew to an end and Hakoda entered the great house, followed by the warriors who had drummed their welcome for most of the morning. Sokka stepped through the mouth-opening last, turning to look at Zuko for a long moment before he shrugged and stepped inside. More drumming wound through the air, accompanied by singing and the deep vibrations of dancing, and Zuko closed his eyes to feel the sun on his face.

He foraged in the shallows for his midday meal and bent fire in a long routine, practiced with his swords and stretched fatigued muscles as the sun sank rapidly towards the horizon, but still the drumming and singing and dancing continued. Cold had long numbed Zuko's fingers before he finally stepped into the house and blinked against the sudden heat and noise.

The Water Tribe paid him no notice; all eyes were turned towards the large central platform, which held dancers and Hakoda, standing tall and regal and lit by the cook fires. He raised an elaborately carved mask in his hands, its eyes glinting with inlaid shell; the audience responded with awed murmurs and Hakoda carefully presented the mask to a stout woman who accepted it with a nod. She stepped back and Hakoda raised his hands and the drums and singing increased in tempo.

Food lay on wide platters around the house, elaborate dishes with salmon prepared dozens of different ways, and Zuko helped himself to a generous portion of several. He took his bowl and made his way carefully along the wall and finally sat back in the shadows, eating slowly as his fingers warmed. Akiak found him there and clambered into Zuko's lap without hesitation, asleep in moments as Hakoda presented boxes and spears and blankets and masks and finely woven baskets to his guests. The celebration lasted late into the night and at length, Zuko fell asleep as well.

* * *

Warriors poured out of the great house the next day as Zuko finished his swim; they threw burning branches into the pile of wood and sea wrack stacked carefully on the beach. The bonfire caught readily even without Zuko's help and soon the dancing and singing and feasting and gift-giving resumed under the weak late autumn sun. Guests seemed to come and go as Zuko sat with Akiak on the beach; he watched the sea as the boy piled stones one by one atop a flat slab of driftwood.

The house was emptier that night but still Zuko fell asleep to drumming and dancing, and his dreams were filled with drumbeats and keening songs.

* * *

The celebration continued on the third day, the pace slowing but the activity still steady as the day grew hazy with autumn, smoke from the campfires mingling with mist from the sea. Zuko might have enjoyed the weary satisfaction that permeated the great house or wondered that Hakoda had anything left at all to give away, but rage still simmered within him, resentment joining it as slaves tended the fires while their masters danced.

Darkness seemed to fall early that afternoon, driving the ceremony inside as it seemed to crescendo. Groups of people passed across the main platform in yet another ritual, Hakoda standing before them as he had throughout. Akiak was absent this evening, no doubt with his mother and sister, and Zuko dozed in a corner of the lodge.

Eventually, he stirred as someone moved nearby, and opened his eyes to see Katara crouching before him, a pot of paint and a thin rope in one of her hands. He stiffened, any lethargy vanishing as tensed himself to fight.

Katara stared at him for a long moment, some warning in her eyes that he didn't understand before she reached out slowly, and Zuko pulled his arm away before she could close her fingers around his wrist. He turned his head away and heard her set the pot down, and then her other hand was on his face, gripping his chin and trapping him with that soft touch and drawing his gaze reluctantly to hers. Her eyes were curiously unguarded and Zuko felt no prickle of his blood falling under her control and he waited a small moment to begin the fight.

"_Trust me_," she whispered, and behind the steel in her voice he heard a plea and he nodded despite himself. She held his gaze and his chin for a moment longer and then released him and picked up the paint pot. Zuko feel his hands shaking, trying to suppress the anger and betrayal that threatened to swamp him as she drew lines down his arms, thick swipes of red-brown paint in a stripe from shoulder to the backs of his middle fingers. She dipped her fingers in the paint once again and marked his forehead, as well, and as she pulled away her hand brushed his cheek.

Zuko looked up and Katara held his eyes again. "Your hands," she said, gesturing, and he looked away as he extended his arms, allowed her to loop the thin rope around his wrists like those months ago when he'd been given to her like _property_, like livestock, and he dug his fingers into his palms to keep himself from striking her. "Trust me," she said again, and he closed his eyes and thought of firebending, pure and clean and consuming, burning away worldly concern with its simple motions.

She rose gracefully and tipped her head and he lurched to his feet, holding on to how much taller he was than her, how he could break away, hold her arms, too, immobile this time, but she gestured for him to follow and turned away and something in her movements held something like _respect_ and that desperate plea in her voice and he followed her through the crowd to the platform on which Hakoda still stood. Zuko refused to bow even as Katara dipped her head to her father and he nodded gravely in return before she stepped from the stage. Hakoda turned to the assembled tribe and spoke at length, words that washed over Zuko as he seethed with rage, words like "slave" and "hunt" and "honor" that clearly meant _nothing_, for hadn't he proved his worth, proved that he was _no-one_'s property to –

The assembled tribe hushed as Hakoda took Zuko's bound hands, raised them and proclaimed _something_ in his deep voice as he untied the thin rope, undoing the knots with gentle deliberation and finally letting the symbolic binding fall away from Zuko's wrists. He spoke again and gently pushed Zuko forward.

"… great wealth this season… our house, our tribe… I give…"

The last word was unfamiliar, just another meaningless pattern of sound, but the audience erupted in reaction as Zuko stared at Hakoda, who smiled gently and pressed the rope into his hand and tipped his head. _Freedom_, Zuko realized. _He said 'freedom.'_

Below him, packed into the lodge, the Water Tribe roared in celebration and the dancers and drummers started again, but Zuko saw nothing but Katara, looking at him with a hint of a smile and a flush on her cheeks. Then Tahnra launched herself forward and scrambled onto the platform to cling to his legs and laugh as Zuko realized that he was _free_.

* * *

Hakoda's guests departed in a steady trickle and some members of the lodge deposited gifts where Zuko sat, slightly dazed and still clutching the rope. Hakoda himself presented Zuko with a beaten copper breastplate, a stylized sun imprinted in the metal, while Sokka gave him a sealing spear. Others gave Zuko food, symbolic offerings he recognized despite his shock, and Kana surprised him with a thick blanket, woven with cream and red-brown wool in jagged patterns that mimicked lightning, or maybe fire. He stared at her, suddenly overwhelmed, and her weathered face cracked in a smile. "Good," she said, and gripped his hand with surprising strength.

Other small celebrations went on in the lodge, too, and as the night stretched on Zuko absently noticed red-brown paint on Tua's arms, on many foreheads around him, and he realized that all of the slaves bore this new mark of freedom. Tahnra pulled at his arm again before he could consider that further, and he grinned at her chatter, the words meaningless but the happiness clear.

At length, the celebration wound down and Akiak and Tahnra fell asleep on Zuko's newly-assigned sleeping platform near the mouth-opening. The Water Tribe slowly retreated to their own beds as the fire burned down and Zuko watched the glowing coals as the night quieted around him, for once wide awake despite how long the sun had been absent. When all lay silent save for soft snores and murmurs, he rose noiselessly and left the great house, pulling the new blanket around his shoulders.

The haze had lifted and the sky now lay clear above him, the moon floating over the sea as Zuko walked slowly along the beach. He finally stopped near the end of the bay's wide sweep and settled himself atop a massive log that jutted from the tall sea grass; he drew his knees up and draped the blanket around him and stared out across the sea at the distant shore bleached silver and indigo by the moon.

He was not surprised when soon Katara climbed up beside him, settling herself beneath her own blanket. Its patterns were soft, swirling in bands of light grey and deep blue and Zuko studied the corner of it, near enough to almost overlap his own blanket and the colors identical in the moonlight. They sat in silence as the moon moved slowly through the sky, sinking towards the horizon, until at length Katara lay a hand on his arm, a feather-light touch warm against the night's chill.

"Stay," she said softly, so softly he thought he might have imagined it until he turned to see her watching him. Her blue eyes were unguarded and almost black in the moonlight, and he stared at her, trying to read the emotions laid there for him to see. He though he saw her quiet pride, and maybe the warm affection she held for her children and beside it in equal measure the determination of a warrior, but most of all he saw _hope_, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd held.

He turned back to the sea, the moon hanging above it and casting glittering reflections on the waves. "I'll stay," he whispered and felt her fingers slide down his arm, tracing the painted line now dried and flaking away, settling on the back of his hand.

Something turned over in Zuko's gut as Katara's fingers laced slowly through his and he wished that he knew the words to say "for now," even as he was glad that he could not. He returned her gentle squeeze and together they sat on the log as the moon sailed through the sky.


	22. Discovered

**Discovered**

_posted December 15, 2009_

* * *

Zuko swam the next morning, pulling himself through the water and savoring it, truly _savoring_ it despite the unrelenting chill. He'd swum like this dozens of times now, but the echo of Hakoda's words and the memory of Katara's soft fingers made it different, changed it to something new and exhilarating; even the thick grey clouds seemed lighter. Afterward, he stood on the beach and watched the sea, the distant shore and the long channel stretching to misty horizon as he steamed water from his skin and his hair and savored his freedom.

Footsteps at the top of the beach interrupted his reverie, followed by a soft cough, and Zuko smiled despite himself as he turned. Katara stood with hesitation and hope clear on her face; she saw his expression and smiled in return, then lifted her brow and settled into a fighting stance. Zuko let his smile slip into a smirk and followed.

They sparred, up and down along the beach, splashing through waves and vaulting over ancient logs that marked the tideline, and it felt like their summer fights but _better_, despite slippery cold rocks and damp chilly air. It finally ended in stalemate, Zuko's ankles frozen in the shallows and Katara surrounded by a curving wall of fire. Zuko let the fires die as the ice around his ankles melted back into the sea, and they stood together for a moment, breathing hard and laughing before they walked back up the beach.

The Wolf House was boisterous and warm compared to the beach, and Zuko grinned at Tua as she ladled a savory breakfast into his bowl; her face crinkled into a smile as she winked. Katara had settled Tahnra and Akiak before the sleeping platforms and rose to fill their three bowls as Zuko sat beside them. Tahnra's smile warmed him more than his own meal, and he felt something very close to _satisfaction_ settle around him.

After breakfast, Zuko found himself shooed from the house again, but he heard the _request_ in it this time and followed Sokka outside with a shrug. Wind had sprung up since the sparring match ended, and Zuko pushed too-long hair from his face, scowling with irritation as it blew it back.

Sokka grinned. "Wolf-tail," he said, pointing at his own hair pulled back with a tie, and Zuko's scowl deepened as he shook his head; he had left topknots behind with the Fire Nation. Sokka shrugged, then tipped his head. "What you do?" he asked, and Zuko knew that the chieftain did not refer to as simple a matter as keeping his hair from his eyes.

_I have no idea_, he realized, and as usual it must have shown on his face because Sokka grinned.

"Winter now. Dance. Hunt. Paint." He swept his hand out, gesturing towards Orvik's canoe shed. "Carve." He shrugged again. "What you do?"

_It's my choice_, Zuko realized with that same rush of warmth he'd felt during the freedom ceremony, and he found himself staring at the horizon. _It's my choice_. "Carve," he said slowly. _If Orvik will have me_.

Sokka clapped him on the shoulder with a nod of approval. "Good," he said, and the affirmation warmed Zuko as Tahnra's smile had earlier.

* * *

The great house had been cleaned again as dusk fell and Zuko followed the other men inside, and many of the women and girls sat around clusters of baskets. They talked and laughed and greeted the men, some laying aside dried leaves and flowers as they stood. Tahnra leapt up to greet Zuko, taking his hand and pulling him forward; he heard the words for "flower" among her speech, and indeed dried purple flowers filled one basket, shriveled leaves another, and bare stems a third.

"From mountain," Katara said, and Zuko looked up to see her standing with arms folded and brow quirked. "For –" she said and continued, but the words were meaningless save for those he thought meant "water" and "blanket." He pushed the familiar frustration down and shrugged; Katara echoed the gesture and looked about to say more, but Tahnra pulled on his hand again and Zuko followed her to inspect other baskets grouped through the lodge, also filled with flowers and leaves and stems.

Sokka rescued him soon enough, handing him a bowl of salmon and tubers and rich oily sauce, and giving Tahnra her own smaller bowl. They joined Katara and Akiak near Hakoda as Tahnra wriggled between her mother and uncle. Zuko sat gingerly beside Sokka, suddenly unsure of himself; he'd always eaten behind the family, but now…

Sokka's grinned a reassurance before turning to talk with Katara, and Zuko hid his relief by digging into his supper. _The rules have changed_, he thought. His new sleeping platform seemed to be among the few other unmarried men, warriors under Sokka's command and a few who seemed to be hunters or artists or craftsmen. _Am I just another man now_?

He cleared his throat pointedly, then nudged Sokka, who turned to him with a curious expression. "I… now… what?" he stumbled, realizing too late he didn't have the words to ask.

Sokka smiled reassuringly. "You carve?" and Zuko nodded, giving up. _For now_.

Akiak soon interrupted Zuko's musing by scrambling into his lap. _I guess_ some_ things haven't changed._

* * *

The women and older girls disappeared again the next afternoon, leaving the great house quiet and empty when the men returned at dusk. "Moon time?" Zuko asked, and Sokka grinned.

"Winter," he agreed, and Zuko remembered the summer's frenzied work, how herring and salmon and mountain flowers had no regard for the moon's ancient cycle, and thought he understood. Kana and Tua readied Tahnra and Akiak for bed that night, but both children wriggled away from Hakoda's sleeping platform to climb up beside Zuko, Tahnra giggling and Akiak wearing an expression of sleepy contentment as he sucked his fingers.

Zuko left them with Tua the next morning; she still tended the fire but now wove tough strips of bark together and occasionally directed a child to poke the coals or stir the soup. He brought her a basket of shellfish that evening, which she accepted with a smile.

* * *

Orvik taught Zuko how to make his own adze the next afternoon, showing him how to shape the handle and set curving teeth against it with pitch and thick twine. The new tool fit Zuko's hand better than the borrowed one, and he felt the difference as he turned to work on the canoe. The shape of a hull had emerged slowly from the rough log, and Zuko found himself looking forward to seeing it completed, how Orvik would form the tall prow and flaring sides he'd seen on other canoes.

The days had grown steadily cooler, with thin rain intensifying the chill. The Water Tribe seemed to stay close to shelter, either the great houses or the nearby sheds where fires burned throughout the day. They also ate constantly, chewing fish and meats preserved during the long summer harvest, though they also gather shellfish from the beach. Zuko himself ate ferociously, stoking his internal fires with the rich fats and oils, and found himself comfortable despite the cold damp beyond the canoe shed and the loincloth's scant cover. He idly wondered if it would grow colder, if they would see great snows like those of the Northern Earth Kingdom, and how the Water Tribe would weather _those_.

The women returned a few days later, appearing as suddenly as they'd disappeared, and rising to greet men who stepped one by one into Wolf House. Zuko stopped as a young woman flung herself at the warrior just ahead of him, and stepped carefully around their heated reunion. He tried to keep the flush from his face as he made his way to the cookfire for his supper, then sat down near Tahnra. A moment later, Katara sat down beside him, catching his eye and grinning, and Zuko found his mind suddenly emptied of coherent thought.

She tipped her head expectantly and Zuko forced himself to speak. "… Good?" He winced. _Idiot!_ but she grinned and said a few soft words and turned to Tahnra.

His sleeping platform felt cold that night, lonely without Tahnra and Akiak snuggled up next to him, and the bachelor warrior on the next platform snored. For a moment, he missed sleeping below Katara's platform, her soft breathing, but he forced himself to think instead of firebending, of the sea's chill and rolling waves, and finally he slept.

* * *

On warmer days when the wind blustered along the beach, Katara led her waterbending students in lessons, occasionally coming to the carving shed to ask Zuko's participation. He nodded in agreement the first time and followed her through the rain to the creek where young women waited under shimmering shelters created by their bending. Iya smiled nervously before Zuko nodded to her, and she beamed in response.

Katara caught him off guard, then, setting her blanket and hat aside and sinking into a bending position, but she, too, wore only a loincloth underneath. Zuko felt heat rise to his face as he looked hastily away, _anywhere_ but at smooth brown curves suddenly bared to the world, and didn't even see the wave before it crashed over his head and bore him to the muddy ground. Katara laughed and laughed, her students giggling as Zuko silently cursed the Water Tribe and all its _barbarous_ customs and _treacherous_ women.

The laughter finally died away and Katara offered her hand to Zuko where he sat on the ground. He frowned and she quirked her brow and he sighed and accepted her help up. They settled back into bending stances and Zuko grit his teeth and refused to give her the advantage a second time; he kept his eyes scrupulously on her face and her hands and her water.

They fought to careful stalemate again and Katara nodded her thanks. Zuko dipped his head in return and on impulse, bowed to her as he would a firebending opponent, then to her students as he would to any master's class. Katara's expression held puzzlement as straightened and he quirked his brow at her, then turned to walk back to the carving shed.

* * *

Arluk the woodcarver visited the canoe shed another afternoon; he talked quietly with Orvik, then turned to Zuko. "Build boxes. You help?" His tone carried no trace of imperative, and Zuko glanced quickly at Orvik, who shrugged as if to say "_it's your choice_."

Zuko looked back to Arluk. "Need heat?" he asked carefully, and the woodcarver nodded. He looked at Orvik again and tried to nod in a way that conveyed "I'll be back when I'm finished" and the canoe-maker shrugged again, a ghost of a smile on his face. Zuko followed Arluk along the beach to a shed set near the Shark house and surrounded by fine wood shavings.

The boxes that Zuko helped steam and bend in subsequent days were crafted with far more care than those built for fish storage; they were shaped differently, too, low and broad with lids sized perfectly over the tops. Zuko helped plane and notch planks and bent them together, steaming them carefully with heated breath. He found the same easy patterns working with Arluk as he had with Orvik, and soon a handful of finely made boxes filled the workspace. Arluk nodded in approval that evening and dipped his head in the way Zuko knew was as like a bow as the Water Tribe made; he dipped his head in return and walked back to Wolf House through the chilly evening air.

The canoe lay waiting for him the next morning; Zuko nodded to Orvik and picked up his adze and returned to carving.

* * *

He continued to spar with Katara after his morning swim, as well, fast fights unlike the precise demonstrations for her waterbending students, and on the warmer, windy days Zuko found himself sweating from the exertion, satisfied save for the tickle of long hair against his neck.

On one particular morning, it lay wet and plastered along his shoulder, irritatingly long and damp and he pulled it away from his skin with a curse. Katara watched with amusement on her face as Zuko tried to blow loose strands out of his eyes and finally made a decision. "You… cut?" he asked, gesturing at his hair, and she tilted her head at him and smirked. He sighed and pulled his razor from atop his blanket, offered it to her handle first. "Please?"

She examined the edge carefully and handed it back to him. "Show me."

Zuko sighed again and ran his hands through his hair, pulled a section of it through his fingers, held it out and sliced carefully through the strands. His eyes strained to focus at the close angle and he wished he had a proper mirror so that he could do this himself and spare himself the effort of submitting to her care.

Her expression held interest when he finally looked up, and she gestured absently. "Again." Zuko separated another section and cut it with a few careful taps, and Katara nodded and held out her hand for the razor. The expression on her face, almost a _smirk_, made him hesitate, but then his hair tickled his neck again and he handed it to her with a scowl.

"Sit," she said, and gestured to a log on the tide line, and Zuko sat, remembering with longing the days of barbers and basins and _soap_. "Short?" she asked.

Zuko nodded and Katara grabbed his chin to hold his head still. "Short," he agreed.

She worked slowly at first, almost hesitantly, but seemed to gain confidence as tufts of hair fell around Zuko's shoulders. She worked from the back, pausing to examine her work, and combed her fingers through his hair to separate the strands. The touch was impersonal, but it felt… _nice _and Zuko relaxed slowly under the steady rhythm.

Katara finally stepped away, studying him with a faint frown before nodding. Zuko shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, pleased to find it short but not _too_ short – and less irritating already. "Thank you," he said as he brushed the loose hair off his neck and chest, then picked his way down to the water to wash the rest of it away.

That night at the evening meal, Tahnra stood beside Zuko on the platform to pat his hair; he couldn't tell if her small comments were pleased or annoyed, so he stood and scooped her up and held her out by the ankles, dangling her carefully over the floor as she shrieked in laughter. Akiak watched this display from his mother's lap and Katara smiled at him with odd affection on her face. Zuko felt himself flush and looked down at Tahnra, grinning at her and lowering her carefully to the ground. She sprang up as soon as he let go and tackled him and he let himself fall backwards under her small weight, trying not to meet Katara's eyes or hear her soft chuckle or wonder what it might mean.

* * *

Days later, Arluk returned to the shed carrying one of the boxes, now ornamented with painted and carved designs; he set it carefully before Zuko. "For your work," he explained quietly, and dipped his head in gratitude.

Zuko nodded stupidly. "You are most welcome," he said finally and bowed, hand over fist in the Fire Nation style. He straightened to find Arluk smiling at him with a puzzled expression and Zuko realized that he had _spoken_ in the Fire Nation style, too. He sought the words, tried to translate them into his limited Water Tribe vocabulary, and realized he knew no better expression than "thank you." Arluk nodded at those words and departed and Zuko crouched to examine the designs, swirling patterns thick with stylized eyes.

Orvik knelt beside him and pointed to one part of the design, a series of lines that swelled and narrowed. "'Tal-iku," he said gravely. He pointed to another section, concentric ovals carved into the wood. "Lu-tak." He clapped Zuko on the shoulder. "Yours."

Zuko nodded absently, tracing the pattern with his fingertips. He glanced at it frequently as he worked on the canoe and that evening settled it by his sleeping platform. He studied the design again, seeing new details in the intricate carvings, and set the lid to one side. It easily held the gifts from the freedom ceremony, the handful of small bowls and baskets and spear tips, the beaten copper breastplate, and Zuko set his spare blankets and tattered shirt beside them.

_My property_, he thought suddenly. _The things that I own_. Once, he had owned many things, weapons and clothing and furniture, land and services and riches too extensive to quantify except in the neat columns of ledgers. Beside that memory, this meager box of possessions should have seemed crude – the paltry tools of a savage people, born in this distant wilderness.

Zuko fingered the fine blanket that Kana had given him, folded carefully beside the box. The wool was thick, its texture rough compared to silk and linen, but every strand perfectly lapped and tied to create the lightning design. He glanced up to mark Kana's position, seated near her sleeping platform with a spindle, and saw another box beside her; its patterns were different than the '_tal-iku_ and _lu-tak_ on Zuko's box, but the paint was fresh and the carvings sharp and he realized suddenly that it was payment to the Wolf house for his work, as his own box was payment to _him_.

Zuko watched the fire burn to coals that night, his mind restless despite the fatigue in his body; his thoughts tumbled over one another like waves on the beach as he allowed himself to wonder about the future, about what would happen after the canoe was completed and spring warmed the land and the navigation channels opened again.

_I suppose, _he finally realized,_ I'll find out when Toph comes next year_. The thought opened more possibilities, overwhelming to consider, but then Zuko heard a small commotion beside him and Akiak scrambled up onto the platform to curl up at his side, and Zuko knew he didn't know _what_ he would do, except wait.

* * *

Zuko sparred with Katara the next morning, the sky leaden and the wind carrying a deepening chill as the days shortened towards the solstice. They were increasingly evenly-matched in their fights, Zuko realized with gratification, even as Katara's growing abilities to counter firebending forms were _infuriating_. He slapped three water whips aside with a flaming arm, only to have a fourth and fifth splash against the back of his legs and break his stance. He let himself roll into a new form, raising sheets of fire to steam the next volley of water whips away before they could reach him again. He returned Katara's grin; he had learned how to block waterbending forms, too.

Their fights, too, grew longer and more exhausting with the passing days, but Zuko knew that his skills were stretching and growing again. _You haven't sparred with a master in ages_, he reminded himself as they ranged up and down the beach; he drove Katara back towards the tideline, away from the sea, but she moved gracefully over the rocks and up into the creek where it emptied across the beach. They continued their battle up into scrubby trees and the clearing where she taught waterbending, the sting of saltwater replaced by the cold of the creek as they traded offense and defense.

Zuko knew stalemate neared as he felt himself tire and saw Katara's movements slow, and finally he rooted his stance and pressed his advantage of height and weight and simply pushed her backwards into the creek. She overbalanced with a shriek but lashed out with a tendril of water to drag him in and they hit icy water together. Zuko gasped at the cold as Katara sputtered beside him, but then they glanced at each other and laughed together, both glad the fight was finally over.

Footsteps approached as their laughter subsided; _Sokka?_ Zuko wondered with a grin, and he and Katara looked up as one. Instead of Sokka, though, a brother of the traveling order stood on the creek's bank, his saffron robes bright against the dark forest. Katara smiled brilliantly, then struggled out of the creek with a shout. She threw her arms around the brother, who smiled warmly and responded in kind.

Zuko stared at this demonstration, the creek's cold forgotten as the brother watched him over Katara's shoulder, curiosity warring with suspicion in his wide grey eyes.


	23. Discussed

**Discussed**

_posted December 17, 2009_

* * *

Zuko stared at the stranger embracing Katara and found his stare returned until Katara released the brother and stepped back, speaking happily. Zuko stood deliberately, drawing his attention and watching for any threat. Katara, however, turned with a look of joy on her face and gestured for Zuko to join them. He gave the stranger a long stare, then picked his way up the creekbank, careful not to slip on mud or loose cobbles.

Katara spoke quickly to the brother, then to Zuko; she gestured between them and rolled her eyes and he laughed and responded, then turned to Zuko. He tipped his head and spoke in one of the Air languages, lilting and soft.

Zuko frowned and shook his head; few in the Fire Nation ever learned the Air languages.

The brother spoke again in halting, heavily-accented High Fire Nation. "I… say little –" he held his fingers a short distance apart, his expression sheepish "– tall Fire Nation."

Zuko nodded, catching himself tipping his head in the way of the Water Nation before dropping his chin in the way of the mainlands. "Low Fire Nation?" he asked, the sounds harsher than those of his childhood, but the brother shook his head and spoke again in what sounded like the South Earth Kingdom dialect, and Zuko shook his head in turn.

"You speak Western Earth Kingdom?" the brother asked.

"Some. Not well." Zuko started to hold his hands out, but the brother spoke again.

"Perhaps the language of scholars? Though I daresay you lack the trappings of a scholar." His grin lacked malice as Zuko struggled to remember his Ancient Earth Kingdom, a language more easily _written_ than spoken.

"Was not the language of scholars relegated to antiquity _because_ only scholars could converse within it?" he finally replied.

The brother's smile widened. "Well, what about Eastern Earth Kingdom?"

_Finally_, Zuko thought. "Why would a brother of the Traveling Order know Eastern Earth Kingdom?" he asked, trying to hide his relief.

The brother grinned again. "To talk with people who don't speak the Air languages!"

Katara cleared her throat and both men turned to her as she spoke quickly, irritation in her tone; the brother laughed, the sound sincere and infectious. Zuko crossed his arms, lifted his brow in query. "She says maybe_ I_ should introduce myself, instead," the brother explained. "I'm Aang." He bowed deeply, hand-in-palm in the Earth Kingdoms style. "Katara says you won't give your name, even if I ask, so I won't."

The easy statement startled Zuko as he remembered to bow; he fumbled for a moment, then set fist-under-hand as he had since childhood. "Right…" he said as he straightened. _I didn't realize she'd noticed_.

Aang shrugged. "She also said the warriors call _you_ _Xtl'ikgut'Tlak_. It means 'lightning serpent.' Kind of like a dragon!"

Sokka's gesture by the glacier flashed through Zuko's memory, the movement of his hand suggesting the stalk of an animal. _Dragon?_ But Aang had already turned back to Katara to speak quickly in Water Tribe again, leaving Zuko to stare stupidly at them both. She grinned at Aang and hugged him again and he laughed, holding out his robes to show the damp spots she'd left on the cloth. He gestured and sank into a bending stance and she laughed and held her arms open wide and braced herself.

Zuko averted his eyes quickly and his embarrassment turned to surprise as Aang summoned a wind. _Airbender_, he thought wryly, as Katara laughed.

"She says you're a bit of a prude," Aang called cheerfully and Zuko scowled. "I dunno, I've seen how Fire Nation people dress, and I guess I can't really blame you – I bet you've seen more skin here than in your entire life!" Zuko felt his face heat like a flustered teenager, but a wild chittering interrupted the moment.

"_Peach!_" Katara exclaimed in Ancient Earth Kingdom and Zuko stared as a lemur alighted on her shoulder to clutch her hair and nuzzle her cheek. She scratched its ears and the thing _purred_.

"That's Momo," Aang explained as it noticed Zuko and leaned forward, green eyes huge and curious. "He's a lemur!" Zuko stared at it, and it chattered angrily. "Don't stare at him – it's like a lemur challenge and he doesn't know you yet," Aang whispered, and Zuko closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache forming already.

He heard Aang and Katara converse again, the words for "food" and "Wolf house" and "children" clear above the purring and chittering, and Katara cleared her throat again. Zuko opened his eyes to find both humans and lemur watching him expectantly; he shrugged as if to ask "_what?_" and Aang grinned.

"She says that breakfast is probably past ready, and she's _starving_. You probably are, too!"

"…Yeah," Zuko agreed distractedly, and watched as Aang linked his arm through Katara's and they set out along the path to the beach and the great houses.

* * *

Sokka greeted Aang with a yell and a hug, lifting the slighter man clear off his feet while Zuko went straight to the fire pit. Tua ladled a large portion of the stewed salmon that warmed beside the fire, a knowing grin on her wrinkled face, and Zuko tried to keep from scowling as he took his bowl.

Tahnra had joined the commotion by the house's mouth-opening, which Akiak watched with wide eyes from the eating platform. Zuko sat down beside the boy, who looked at him quickly, then scrambled into his lap and sucked his fingers, concern on his face. Zuko ate his meal slowly and after a time the others joined them.

Aang grinned at Akiak. "You don't remember me, do you," he said warmly, then repeated the statement in Water Tribe. Akiak just stared, then flinched as Momo climbed onto Aang's shoulder and scrambled down his arm to sniff at Zuko's bowl.

Zuko held it out of reach and glared as Akiak turned his face into Zuko's chest, and Aang leaned back with a sheepish expression. "Sorry," he said, sincerity clear in his voice, and Zuko allowed the irritation to subside as Aang turned back to Katara with a question.

Silence fell as Katara looked away and Sokka's face turned stony. He turned his head to spit ritualistically into the fire pit, then said a few sharp words.

"_Oh_," Aang replied, the meaning clear, and Zuko knew he'd asked about Katara's husband. He forced himself not to react and the moment passed, leaving a sour taste in his mouth despite the salmon's rich flavor.

* * *

"A sky bison," Zuko said in disbelief. "You tamed a _sky bison_."

Tahnra had already scrambled up the great beast's head; it groaned mightily as she stroked the soft fur on its head. Akiak watched from Katara's arms.

"I didn't _tame_ Appa, I _made friends_ with him," Aang corrected, patting its nose. "Right buddy?" The sky bison groaned again as if in answer and Zuko almost took a step backwards.

"And he brought you from the Air territories?"

"Well, no. Appa can't fly across _oceans_." Aang's tone made the "yet" clear in the sentence. "We took a ship to Zhong Jin and headed South from there." He patted the bison again. "We've been traveling between Water villages for about six years now."

_A missionary by any other name_, Zuko thought, but only shrugged and retreated to the canoe carving shed to greet Orvik with a nod. The paper-thin shavings needed to shape the vessel's gunwales tested Zuko's carving abilities and he concentrated fiercely on the task the rest of the day while Aang walked along the beach to visit each great house in turn. He spent the longest in the house at the very end, opposite the beach's wide curve from the Wolf house, and emerged late in the afternoon with a faint frown.

* * *

Zuko had half-expected a grand welcome feast that evening, but found the Wolf house quiet when he returned. Aang sat lotus-style beside the fire talking cheerfully with Tua, a variety of small pots spread before him in the coals. Fragrant steam rose from each and Zuko recognized the smells of rice and lentils, delicate vegetables and grains in contrast to the Water Tribe's staple fish and meat and thick hearty tubers.

"You follow the old ways," Zuko said abruptly, and Aang glanced up.

"They aren't old to _me,_" he replied with a grin, and Zuko nodded, feeling foolish. Aang lifted the lid of the pot closest to him and the scent of rich spices reached Zuko's nose, reminding him suddenly of far distant lands. Tahnra scrambled down to smell the dish, too, and Aang laughed. "_Taste?_" he said in Water Tribe, and Tahnra nodded. He stirred the pot once and withdrew the spoon, held it out to her with his hand cupped beneath. "Hot," he warned her, and she blew on it before taking a tiny bite.

Zuko almost laughed as her face screwed up in surprise and disgust. "That's how I felt the first time I tasted Air food."

Aang grinned. "I don't make it as well as Master Gyatso."

* * *

Aang sat on the beach the next morning, hands and knees folded and meditating in the cool morning air. Zuko suppressed his irritation, reminding himself that he had no exclusive right to beach nor sun, and passed him quietly to wade into the water. Afterward, he stood on the shore to steam himself dry, feeling the peace disturbed by another's presence. _Katara disturbs you almost every day_, he reminded himself. _But –_

"You're a firebender!" Aang suddenly exclaimed, and Zuko almost fell into the water in surprise. He turned to find Aang standing, delight upon his face. "That's great! My friend Kuzon is a firebender; he's a Fire Sage at the Za Xei temple. I haven't seen him in a while, but we used to get into all _kinds_ of trouble!" He sank into a bending pose. "Wanna spar with me?"

* * *

Sparring with Aang, Zuko found, was _infuriating_, all evasion and dodging, leaving him sweaty and irritated without making a single real hit. "You've never sparred with airbenders before, have you?" Aang asked when Zuko finally called a halt.

"When would I have sparred with an airbender?" Zuko replied, trying to catch his breath. "You aren't exactly known for leaving your temples."

A shadow crossed Aang's face, making him look older, sadder. "That might be changing soon," he said softly.

"What do you mean?" Zuko demanded, but footsteps sounded on the beach and both turned to Katara, making her way carefully down the rocks. Aang brightened immediately while Katara regarded Zuko with an amused expression.

"Hot?" she asked, and he scowled, about to reply, when a wave broke over his head, soaking him thoroughly. Aang and Katara laughed while he sputtered.

"Thanks," he said wryly, then lunged forward. She shrieked as Zuko grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder and waded out into the sea while she pounded on his back. "For a waterbender, you don't seem to want to get wet!" he shouted, and tipped her forward. She hit the water with a splash and Zuko leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding the tendrils that slashed at his ankles.

Aang sat on the rocks, watching their antics with a smile as Zuko made it back to the shore without getting snared. Katara followed a few moments later, scowling but clearly trying to keep from laughing. Aang said something in Water Tribe, the word "_fight_" almost lost among other words. Katara stuck out her tongue in response and stalked up the beach.

"I think that means you won," Aang said, and Zuko returned his grin.

* * *

They danced that night, drumming and chanting as Aang wove between the Water Tribe forms, his movements graceful and foreign. Akiak sat on Zuko's lap as he leaned back against a sleeping platform, watching the fire and idly making it flicker in time to the drumbeats. Katara faced Aang in the lines of dancers for a moment, then they moved apart again and the dance ended in a fury of noise. Aang grinned, then bowed to the dancers and stepped from the platform to sit beside Zuko. Another dance started, more gentle than that just ended, and Aang spoke up conversationally. "So how does a Fire Nation noble end up in the Inland Water Tribe?"

Zuko watched the fire while he considered how to answer; he remembered the terror of attack, the delirium of fever, the concern and cold of deep blue eyes. "By accident."

Aang waited, but Zuko said nothing more; when he finally spoke again, his tone was careful. "Sokka said you were – just freed."

Zuko heard the pause, knew that he'd nearly said _a slave_, but the rage didn't rise up inside him and instead he shrugged. "I guess… I'm a canoe-carver. For now. And I heat things."

"That's really important here, you know. Valuable." Aang gestured beyond the fire pit. "Winter in the Water Tribe is cold and dark, and really wet. Heat and light and dry are really important, almost like virtues." He nodded, as if to himself. "I bet they'd never even _thought_ about firebending before, and here you show up with _heat_ at your fingertips. I bet you were really –" He cut himself off. "Sorry."

The dancers changed tempos, the drums slower and deeper, and Zuko hoped that Aang wouldn't speak again, but he sighed deeply and tucked his knees up under his chin. "The Order wants to send more of us here, to teach the Water Tribes the sacred texts and the obligations. They want us to teach Western Earth Kingdom, too. "

Aang's face was troubled when Zuko glanced at him. "None of the elders have ever been here. Most of them haven't even left the Air Territories. They don't see that the Water Tribes don't _need_ us, or the obligations, or the texts. They're doing just fine." He sighed deeply and rested his cheek on his folded arms. "I don't really know what to do. I can't disobey the Elders… but they don't know what they're asking."

Zuko tried not to think of the Fire Sages' teachings, the inferiority of other elements and their wielders; he'd seen it proved false too many times and far before he found himself in the Water Tribes. "Maybe you could ask them if they _want_ to learn Western Earth Kingdom," he said slowly.

Aang brightened. "I bet some of them would. It's a good trading language, and they take trade _really_ seriously. That's a really good idea."

Zuko couldn't think of a response, so he let his smile show and watched the fire as the dancers moved slowly across the stage. Katara wasn't the most graceful woman there, but her movements held a power that the others lacked, like the strength of the ocean in her limbs and form.

"You know…" Aang started, and Zuko turned back to him. "I could also teach_ you_ Inland Water Tribe," he said with a sly grin. Something trembled inside Zuko, like the feel of slender fingers slipping between his.

"I'd like that."


	24. Taught

**Taught**

_posted December 27, 2009_

* * *

The wind blew cold the next morning and Zuko lingered in the sea. Its steady chill felt almost warm in comparison to the air; he breathed deeply and his internal fires surged and he stepped quickly from the water. His breath steamed in the cold air as he started a warm-up form.

Katara waited on the beach when he finished, wrapped carefully in her blanket and Zuko grinned as she stepped down the slope to meet him.

"Aang," she said, and rolled her eyes as she continued. She waved her hand and Zuko heard the word for "air" and "fight" as she rolled her eyes again, her gesture suggesting an airbender's dodging, evading forms.

Zuko smirked as he took a firebending stance. "Don't worry," he called in High Fire Nation. "I won't duck." Katara raised arcs of water in response and true to his word, Zuko met them with sheets of flame.

They ranged along the beach as they fought, but Zuko felt himself tiring too quickly, the effort of keeping himself warm detracting from the battle. Katara seemed impervious to the chill but didn't scoff when Zuko called a halt to the fight, crossing his arms and beginning to shiver. He retrieved his blanket where it lay at the tideline, but Katara watched the sky as she lingered on the beach.

Zuko picked his way across the rocks to stand beside her, trying not to shiver, as she made a declaration; he heard the word for "air" but the rest slipped by him, and he wished suddenly that Aang were there to translate. The familiar frustration rose in him again, soothed only by his resolve to learn Inland Water Tribe as quickly as he could.

* * *

"Inland Water Tribe," Aang began, "has a few dialects, but they aren't too different from each other. Looks-To-The-East Village – that's _here_ – speaks what the Order calls the Zhou Fang Xi dialect. I think it's the biggest one, but they're all pretty similar.

"You speak the Fire languages and some of the Earth languages, right? Well, I guess Inland Water Tribe is most like the Northern Earth languages – the ones in the east."

Zuko listened as he worked at the canoe, Aang's voice falling into a teacher's cadence as he explained the language, its patterns, its exceptions; an introduction Zuko had so desperately wished for.

"It sounds like your vocabulary is pretty good," Aang continued. "Sokka says that you've picked up a lot of the nouns and verbs, just by listening and asking."

Zuko nodded as he swung the adze again. "Sokka's taught me a lot of words. I just can't figure out the particles. The tenses. Abstract ideas." He shrugged. "I can tell you the names of different kinds of fishing equipment, but I can't tell you how to use them."

Aang grinned. "Right. Well, we'll fix that."

* * *

That evening, Zuko listened to the conversations around him, listening for the structures that Aang had explained, the rhythms and tones that were as much a part of grammar as the words themselves. The meanings of most words still eluded him, but he heard the patterns, the sounds that repeated themselves, the pauses and lilts that indicated transition and query. He reviewed them as dancers took the central stage, listened for words in the singing and chanting, and later fell asleep still reviewing the new understanding.

* * *

Aang enlisted Orvik to help the next day, asking him to explain the process of canoe carving while Zuko listened to the sounds and then the translation.

"It's less of a carving a canoe and more birthing it," Aang translated as Orvik nodded solemnly. "Of seeing its essence and helping pull it from the wood. Hear that distinction – how the suffix changes? That's an honorific – it indicates something with a soul. There's a _lot_ of words like that in Inland Water Tribe." Zuko nodded, listening, tapping his fingers on his arm to remember the pattern.

"A master canoe carver," Orvik continued through Aang, "goes into the forest and searches until he finds the tree that is ready to become a canoe. He may search for days, or find it in hours. He then prays to the spirit of the tree and his personal guardians, asking for their blessing, and they will give him a sign if they approve.

"The carver then fells the tree and brings it to the beach to be carved, which can take many days, depending on where it grew. This one," and Orvik gently thumped the one Zuko worked on "was brought here at the end of the summer, when enough houses had returned from summer gathering to help move it.

"Once it's hollowed out, we'll steam it until the sides are flexible, and then force the gunwales apart; it will dry in that position and give the canoe its sea-worthy shape." Orvik chuckled and Aang grinned as he translated. "He say's you'll be a great help _there_, Xtl'ikgut'Tlak. _Dragon_."

"_Xtl'ikgut'Tlak_," Zuko said slowly, hearing the nuance of the word fully; he frowned. "Why do they call me that?"

Aang shrugged. "I think it's a lot of reasons. You make fire. Your eyes."

"My eyes?" Zuko tried not to flinch, tried not to touch the scar.

"Yeah, the dragons of their stories are mystical – they have 'bright eyes, unlike those of men or other beasts.'" Aang shrugged. "Everyone in the Water Tribes has blue or grey or brown eyes. I bet they've never seen anyone like you before."

"I suppose," he responded absently, relieved in a way he couldn't explain.

* * *

"We go hunt _mountain_, now," Sokka said as they emerged from the Wolf House one morning. "You come, now?"

Zuko basked in the satisfaction of understanding, even as he shook his head. "I carve. Here." He nodded. "Thanks."

Sokka grinned and clapped him on the back. "Have fun, then," and Zuko smiled in response.

Aang walked beside him to the canoe shed. "What was the word after _'mountain_?'" Zuko asked.

"Sheep – mountain sheep," Aang answered, then tipped his head. "Why didn't you ask Sokka?"

Zuko shrugged, but Aang continued. "Do you not want them to know you're learning Inland Water Tribe?"

He studied the horizon as he searched for his answer; the cold deepened as the solstice approached, the sky as leaden gray as the sea and the wind icy. The canoe shed felt warm in comparison, hides draped on its windward side and a fire crackling in the lee. "I guess I don't want to do it half-way. I mean," he tried to find a way to explain it. "I want to… _speak _the language, rather than stumble through it."

Aang smiled. "I guess I can understand that."

* * *

The women, meanwhile, had busied themselves crushing the dried flowers and leaves gathered during the summer, grinding them and mixing them with water to form a thick paste.

"They're making dye," Aang explained one afternoon as Iya led them to a long shelter set up between the great houses and the forest. The girl had approached the canoe shed timidly, brightening when Aang responded and Zuko set aside the adze. "It's a really complicated process – I help whenever I'm in the village at the right time. They usually dye in winter – it's the sacred season, dedicated to art and celebration."

Great vats sat beneath the shed, sturdy wooden boxes stained deep blue-brown, splashes and drips from past years' dyes. A handful of women scraped the crushed flowers and leaves carefully into the vats while Katara supervised the process, nodding at one and shaking her head at another, placing her hands on one vat and closing her eyes. "Katara is a master dyer," Aang said softly as they watched. "One of the best the village has ever seen. I think it's because she's such a strong waterbender: it's like she can feel the dye. It's not like most dyes – you can't just boil it and expect it to work. There has to be no air in the water, or the pigment won't dissolve."

A rank smell washed over them as they neared the shed and Zuko grimaced. Aang grinned. "Yeah, that's how I reacted the first time, too. It's part of how they keep the air out of the water."

Katara looked up as they entered and smiled, waving them over. "Thanks… to come," she said. "Now," and she nodded at Aang. "Take… air out?"

Aang grinned and stepped into a bending form, concentrated for a moment and gently raised his hands. The liquid in the vat shimmered, then tiny bubbles broke the surface; Aang kept moving his hands and then relaxed. The rank smell doubled in intensity, and Zuko tried to keep from gagging as Katara smirked.

"Heat?" she asked, and Zuko focused on the word to keep from focusing on the smell. He nodded as she spoke to Aang. "Soft… heat. To blood, above," she explained.

"She says it needs to be a low, even heat, just enough to get it up to body temperature."

Zuko nodded again and placed his hands on the vat, trying to breathe shallowly but still deeply enough to move his qi. He closed his eyes and concentrated, reaching for the faint heat he felt in the liquid and encouraging it, strengthening it, _gently_. He opened his eyes to find it steaming gently in the chilly air, and Katara nodded in satisfaction as she moved a hand over the surface, moving the dye carefully. "Iya," she called, "Piece, please," and the girl moved forward with a hank of yarn in her hands. Katara pushed it carefully into the dye and moved her hands again, and they all waited, staring at the vat as moments passed.

Finally, Katara moved her hands again and the surface shimmered briefly and she pulled the yarn from the dye with a hooked stick; it had turned a sickly light green color that startled Zuko until it began to deepen into a light blue.

"The air makes it turn blue," Aang explained. "They'll dip it again until it turns the right color. All these," he waved his hands up and down the row of vats, "will be different strengths of dye. When the hunters get back with mountain goat hides, they'll dye it in batches for this year's weaving. They'll also dye strips of root and bark and grass for weaving."

Katara nodded as the yarn's color stabilized, and spoke briefly to Aang. "Good, you go… back, I ask… tomorrow. Moon." She turned to look at Zuko, quirked her brow. "Thanks for heat," she said carefully, and Zuko nodded.

"What did she say to you just then?" he asked as they walked back to the canoe shed.

"What did you hear?" Aang returned with a teacher's infuriating patience, and Zuko frowned as he thought.

"She said 'good.' And then 'go.' And then 'moon.' And 'I ask.' 'Back.'"

Aang grinned. "She said it was good – that it will work, and that we could go back to carving, for now. She'll have the other vats ready tomorrow, and then she'll call for us again when she's exhausted these vats – in about half a moon, she thinks. A fortnight."

* * *

The hunters returned days later, thick wooly skins rolled and bundled on their backs. The dance that night described waiting and stalking, the singing forming a prayer and a thanks to ancestors and the mountain sheep's spirits. "It's to honor their gifts," Aang whispered. "The spirits might not be so generous next year if the tribe doesn't show thanks now."

Later, though, the solemn thanks dissolved into boisterous laughter and bragging as the men relaxed in the heat of a steam bath, trading stories. Zuko was not the only man to have forgone the hunt, and he picked out fragments of conversation around him – "largest ever," "I… _hungry_," "good winter" – before the men seemed to start a story-telling competition.

Aang stole the show, the men whooping with laughter as he related a tale, Sokka chiming in at points for emphasis; something about a tunnel, and… mystery? Secret? _I'll ask Aang later_, Zuko resolved.

* * *

Cold arrived in earnest the next morning, and Zuko gazed at the beach from the Wolf House's mouth-opening, loathe to brave the icy air. He stood for a long moment before turning back to the lodge, stoking the cookfire as he waited for the tribe to awaken around him.

Tua stirred first, blinking at him as she moved into the fire circle. "Ah," she said as she turned back to her sleeping platform. "You wait." Puzzled, Zuko waited, and at length she returned, a bundle under one arm. "For you," she said, and offered the bundle to him.

_Shoes_, Zuko realized, woven from like the Water Tribe's baskets from fine supple fibers and lined with hide. He looked up at her, flabbergasted, as she smiled. "For you," she repeated, and turned back to the fire.

Zuko still stared at them when Aang settled beside him. "What's that?"

"… Shoes," he responded, feeling thick. "Tua gave them to me. I don't know why…"

"Have you given her anything?"

"No… not really." He frowned. "I bring her shellfish, sometimes…"

"Ah." Aang nodded. "It's a trade."

"But… I didn't mean it that way – she didn't have to give me anything, I wanted to –"

"Just think of it as how the Water Tribe says 'thank you.'" Aang grinned. "They think of property and ownership completely differently from the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdoms. Different from the Air peoples, too. It's all about the connections you can make with people, and with other tribes. Have you seen a Li-wuk yet?"

"A what?"

"It's like a big celebration where someone gives away a lot of gifts. Sometimes everything they own."

Zuko frowned, remembering. "There was… something like that."

"That's a way to show status, and to cement relationships between people and houses and villages and clans." Aang tipped his head, seeing to see Zuko's bewilderment. "In the Fire Nation, wealth is about how much you _have_, right? How much gold, or land, or ships, right?"

Zuko nodded numbly.

"Well, here, wealth is about how much you _get_ with it. I mean, if a ship is just sitting in the harbor, it's not worth much, right? It's what you go out and _do_ with it that's important." He shrugged. "It's that same idea in the Water Tribe. The value of property is in the relationship it creates when you give it away."

Aang must have noticed the conflict roiling within Zuko, as his expression turned to concern. "What's wrong? Was it something I said? Did I –"

"No," Zuko interrupted. "It's… nothing." _Leave it be_, he told himself, trying to breathe deeply and ignore the rage that still simmered deep inside. _You earned your freedom. It's still yours… even if just in payment for your loyalty._ He remembered the smile on Katara's face, the feel of her hand on his, and allowed the anger to pass.

Aang's face still held concern when Zuko looked up. "So," he said slowly. "Do I need to give her anything more, for these?"

Aang shrugged. "I don't know. To me, though – it sounds like you've built a relationship with her that you can continue, if you want."

Zuko nodded. "I think I'd like to. Now that I know what it means."

Aang grinned. "Glad to help."

* * *

They stayed inside that day, and in the days that followed, avoiding the piercing cold outside as the solstice crept closer, the world's fires burning low with the growing darkness.

_The sacred season_, Zuko reminded himself, _dedicated to art and celebration_. _No wonder_. Around the great house, the Water Tribe spun and wove and carved, dedicating themselves to art in the fire's warmth. Even Katara, who never seemed to weave or spin, steadily pulled fleece from the hides Sokka and other hunters had brought back, laying it in a basket for another woman to clean and comb. Tahnra sat between them, learning the process, while Akiak sat curled against Zuko's thigh.

"Like this," Sokka explained, holding a delicate tool and demonstrating how to carve a mountain sheep's horn. Zuko nodded and took both tool and horn while Sokka continued to explain. "Carve, family – house, clan, spirits. You – " he gestured, and Zuko nodded, unsure of what he was agreeing to, "You spirit? … house, wolf, killer whale."

"What's he saying?" Zuko asked softly, and Aang looked up from the sacred text he studied.

"What did you hear?"

Zuko sighed in mild irritation. "Carve. Family. Spirits. Wolf. I don't really know – I thought he was teaching me how to carve."

"He's telling you _what_ you can carve," Aang explained. "Mountain sheep horn like that is usually made into crests – bracelets or jewelry or some other object that tells a story." He consulted quickly with Sokka, the words for "house" and "family" and "wolf" clear again. "He says he doesn't know if you have your own crest, but you're under the protection of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House, so you can use the Wolf crest. Or the Killer Whale, since Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon is part of the Killer Whale Clan." Sokka continued, concern on his face, and Aang translated again. "But don't use the Raven crest or the Shark crest, because he doesn't want Auka nagging him about it."

"Oh," was all Zuko could think to say.

* * *

The weather soon swung back to wet and blustery, and the tribe emerged from the great houses again, taking advantage of the warmer air. Zuko swam gratefully that first morning, enjoying the feel of the sea even if Katara was not on the beach when he finished his firebending routine.

Later, though, she invited he and Aang to spar with her waterbending students, and Zuko agreed with a smirk that was almost a smile. The fight, however, turned out to be unsatisfying. Aang quickly engaged Katara, leaving Zuko to face off against the young waterbenders; he easily blocked their attacks and held his own offensive in reserve, not wanting to injure them. He faced Iya last, half-afraid that the girl would simply collapse in terror, but luckily Katara clapped her hands, ending the match as Aang watched sheepishly from a pile of ice.

"A little help, please?" he asked, and Zuko just grunted, raising his hands to melt the ice away. They sat at the edge of the clearing while Katara demonstrated forms, showing her young students how to block and evade. Zuko split his attention between the lessons and watching Aang, the soft expression on his face as his eyes followed Katara.

"You love her," he said, surprising himself.

Aang started, then turned to him with a sheepish look. "Is it that obvious?" He sighed at Zuko's expression. "I used to think so… but I've taken vows. Maybe if I hadn't… but I have, and I won't go back on them. I've dedicated my life to serving my order, at the price of attachment."

Zuko considered how to respond to that, to the soft longing behind Aang's conviction. "There is honor in that," he finally said.

"Besides," Aang said, his tone lightening. "Here _you_ are, now."

Zuko frowned. "I killed her husband."

"_You_ killed Hahn?"

His frown deepened. "Apparently."

"Wow – that's great!" Aang's expression held excitement as he sat up straighter, then horror as he realized what he'd said. "Um, I mean, all life is sacred, and it's awful that he was killed, but, _wow_." He looked at Zuko again. "No wonder they like you."

"Why…" Zuko said carefully, "Would they like _me_?"

Aang shrugged. "I don't think they _ever_ liked Hahn. Kana only agreed to the marriage because the Killer Whale Clan owed the Bear Clan a debt of honor for their help in a slave raid two years ago – a house from Churning Water Village was visiting, and helped drive off the invaders.

"Wolf-Howls-at-the-Moon House didn't want to marry Katara to him, but the Bear elders at Churning Water Village insisted that she was the only one valuable enough to repay the debt, and the Water Tribe takes honor debts _very_ seriously."

Well. _That_ was something that Zuko could certainly understand.

"That was… five or six years ago. I'd just come here from Zhong Jin, and I didn't really understand it at the time, but I came back to Looks-To-The-East Village and was told Katara had gone to Churning Water Village with her new _husband_."

Aang paused, a distant look on his face. "I don't know what happened after that, but I know that Katara came back here last year with Tahnra and Akiak, and with Hahn, except that he seemed to be in disgrace and no one wanted to talk about it. Oh!" He pointed at Zuko, expression intent. "I bet you settled the score."

"What?" Zuko asked, feeling too slow to keep up.

"I bet that whatever Hahn did to make them come back here, it put the Bear Clan into the debt of the Killer Whale Clan, which was why Hahn was here under Sokka, rather than at the Churning Water Village. I bet that you killing him ended that debt, and from what I saw of Hahn, I bet that the Bear Clan was happy to be rid of him."

Zuko frowned, considering.

"No wonder they like you," Aang repeated, and fell silent.

**

* * *

**

That night Zuko watched the dance, watched Katara move across the stage with the other women, Akiak a warm weight in his lap. _Did you hate your husband_? He wondered. _Were you grateful when Sokka returned without him_?

But the possibilities raised by these new questions made him feel uneasy and instead he tried to focus simply on the dance.


	25. Waited

**Waited**

_posted December 29, 2009_

* * *

The days passed slowly, pleasantly, the weather growing colder, and Zuko spent as much time in Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House carving mountain sheep horn as in the canoe shed. Around him, the Water Tribe engaged themselves in craft as men shaped horn or spear points and women wove and spun. Each night, they danced and sang, ballads Zuko began to recognize as tales of time past and newer verses, describing summer's work and winter's contemplation.

Aang frequently danced with them, occasionally alone or with a single partner; he sometimes sang, too, in both Inland Water Tribe and the lilting, foreign tones of the Air languages. He settled beside Zuko after a particularly energetic dance, grinning hugely, and elbowed him in the ribs. "You could dance, too, you know."

"I don't dance."

Aang's grin only widened. "Right. Fire Nation." He elbowed Zuko again. "Everyone in the _Water Tribe_ dances."

Zuko batted his arm away irritably. "I'm not Water Tribe!"

Aang just tipped his head, laughter in his wide grey eyes, and Zuko scowled.

"Well – _I don't_ _dance_!_"_

* * *

The women disappeared again one blustery day, and Zuko returned from the canoe shed to find the great house quiet and nearly empty.

"Oh, moon time again," Aang said from behind him, and Zuko turned.

"What _is_ moon time?" he asked irritably.

"I don't really know." Aang shrugged. "One of the first things the Order teaches us before traveling is to _never_ ask what women do in private."

That evening, Aang told Tahnra and Akiak a story, illustrating his words with gestures and little gusts of wind that ruffled the children's hair. Tahnra clapped her hands in delight while Akiak sucked his fingers, and Zuko watched, an odd feeling of discontent rippling through him.

Sokka plunked down beside him, still chewing a strip of salmon. "_Envy?_" he asked, pushing Zuko's shoulder affectionately.

Zuko scowled and turned away. "I'm _not_ jealous," he hissed in High Fire Nation. Sokka just chuckled, clearly understanding the meaning if not the words. Zuko huffed in annoyance, allowing steam to escape with his breath, and retreated to his sleeping platform; he sat in meditation to calm his mind, feeling the fire burn into coals and allowing it to pulse gently with every inhale and exhale.

His mood didn't improve, though, until a commotion interrupted the breathing exercise and Tahnra and Akiak clamored up beside him, dragging blankets and furs. Their sleepy murmurs and small weight soothed his temper like warm water, and Zuko felt the irritation slip away.

* * *

The women returned soon and most immediately retreated to the dye shed with baskets and baskets of mountain sheep fleece. Zuko and Aang helped prepare the vats, pulling air from them and heating them at Katara's direction; she seemed to be everywhere at once, barking orders and stirring vats and sampling shades with hanks of yarn or unspun wool until they met her satisfaction.

Aang lingered to watch the dyeing process and so Zuko did as well, standing out of the way as women carefully submerged bundles of wool into the vats. Waterbenders stirred each gently before other women pulled them from the dye to hold them dripping over empty vats as they slowly changed color. Soon bundles of fleece hung from lines and hooks throughout the dyeing shed, each a subtly different color in the chilly air. Katara inspected them all, fingering some and shaking her head at others; many were placed in the vats again and her hands had turned a deep blue by the time evening descended.

She inspected them again the next morning, nodding in satisfaction at many of the bundles and sending a group of young women to wash them in the creek while the process continued. Zuko crossed the distance between canoe shed and dyeing shed many times that day and the next, re-heating vats and watching as baskets of creamy white and brown fleece dwindled.

Katara indeed proved a dyeing master, producing deep blues and light blues and variegated blues, a dark purplish color from the darker brown wools and a faintly green color from the rare yellowish ones. Her forehead, too, was marked with dye, a long smudge as if she had wiped sweat from her brow with pigmented hands, but her posture radiated satisfaction as she surveyed the products of her labor on the third evening.

"Good?" Zuko asked quietly from where he stood with arms folded, and she turned with a tired smile.

"Good," she repeated. "… craft, you, it – luck, you. Over horizon. More good – this, blue, ever… I, make." She fingered a bundle hanging beside her. "Good for finished, now… year, this, I glad."

Zuko nodded carefully, trying to remember Aang's teaching, trying to make sense of her words. _Your luck_, he thought as Katara turned back to the other women and he walked back to the canoe shed. _Extends beyond… your craft_. _This_ _– these_ – _are_… _more good –_ _better _– _best? – blues I make._ He frowned to himself. _These are the best blues I've ever made?_

Later, after Zuko lay down his adze for the day, he met Katara on the beach, damp from the sea and wringing water from her hair. She gave him a tired smile and they walked together in companionable silence back to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House.

* * *

Piercing cold set back in soon after the dyeing was complete and the Water Tribe retreated to the great houses again, and Zuko concentrated on the mountain sheep horn in his hand. Sokka sat beside him in the family's space, working on his own carving and coaching Zuko. "Open out, horn… shape – dream-thought, tool, you, not hand, you."

_Let the shape… emerge_, Zuko thought, nodding. _Let your – imagination – guide the tool, not your hand._

Below them, Aang sat by the fire with Tahnra and several of the Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House's children, teaching them how to count in Western Earth Kingdom and as the afternoon wore on, telling stories of flying bison and hidden temples. Momo scrambled about their circle, holding the children's attention as much as the tales, and at length Aang stood, stretching. "How – around, water bitter-sweet?" he asked.

_How about some tea?_ Zuko realized with a pang; he watched as Aang boiled water, measured out leaves. Much of the house declined, some wrinkling their noses with an air of experience, but many accepted and soon Aang handed Zuko a steaming cup; he grinned as he turned away and Zuko inhaled deeply.

It was a sharply spiced blend, common in the Air territories and rare outside them, but the smell struck Zuko so sharply tears welled in his eyes. He could hear his uncle's voice, see his hands carefully preparing tea, pouring from his favorite jade-green pot. _I miss you, Uncle_, he thought, ducking his head.

Katara watched him from where she sat nearby and Zuko carefully avoided her eyes as he blinked hard and drank his tea; her children and Sokka talked with Aang, laughing and cheerful, almost overwhelming Katara's soft words. Zuko distracted himself by deciphering them, searching for the structure, the meaning. _I_… _sadness_… _You._ _Want_? _Look_… _knowledge_ – _knowing… _

The meaning hit him as sharply as the tea had. _I wish I knew what made you look so sad._

He glanced up, met her eyes and looked away just as quickly, but the compassion in her expression lingered in his memory, soothing the ache of loneliness.

* * *

Aang departed as the solstice drew near. "The wind's changed," he said one afternoon. "It's going to snow, soon." He turned to Katara where she stood on the beach beside them. "I'm going to the Mouth-Of-The-World Village, next, and it's a long ride even on Appa." He smiled, the expression sad and hopeful at once. "I'll be back, next year."

The dance that evening held the same sadness and hope. Aang and Katara danced opposite each other for a time, air and water suggesting the open seas, and Tahnra curled up between Aang and her mother when they finally left the stage.

He left early the next morning, much of the tribe rising with Zuko to see him off and bundle gifts into Appa's saddle. Sokka helped Aang secure them with lengths of line, then both men slid down Appa's shoulder as the tribe pushed in to touch his shoulders or hug him. Aang smiled and laughed and seemed to bid farewell to each individually as Zuko watched, arms folded, from the edge of the crowd. He stooped to hug Tahnra and ruffle Akiak's hair, then stood again to hold Katara close for a long moment; Zuko saw his mouth move but his words were only for Katara.

Aang stepped forward, then, his eyes searching the crowd until he found Zuko's; his sad smile brightened into a grin before he bowed, palm-against-palm in the Air style. Zuko bowed in return, fist-under-hand; he caught Aang's eye and nodded as he straightened and Aang grinned again and scrambled back up Appa's shoulder.

The Water Tribe stood together to watch as the great sky-bison leapt into the air, Aang's small figure waving as they flew into the distance.

* * *

True to Aang's prediction, snow soon fell, blanketing the ground around Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House and muffling the sound of waves on the beach. The sight enchanted Zuko despite himself and he allowed Tahnra to drag him outside to watch it fall. _Remember to thank Tua again_, he thought, grateful that his feet were protected against the cold as Tahnra pulled him towards creek, chatting constantly as Zuko listened, the meaning finally clear.

"Do they have snow where you come from? You make fire, so it's probably hot where you're from, so maybe you don't have snow."

He smiled at her cheerful tone, remembering the rare winters when snow fell on the great port cities, perfect and icy until the sun rose the next morning. Tahnra continued, her words punctuated by her small hops forward to make prints in the snow.

"Mama says you can't really understand me, but that's okay, I like talking to you anyway, and I like it when you talk to me, even if I can't really understand you."

At that, something in Zuko melted like those distant snows; he pulled his hand free of Tahnra's and scooped her up as she shrieked in delight. "Your mother doesn't know everything," he said softly.

Her gray eyes widened, her mouth forming an "O" of surprise. "You talked!"

He grinned, boosting her up onto his shoulders to walk back to the great houses. "I've been known to do so."

* * *

Katara sat down beside him during that evening's dance, her expression a smirk. "So," she said, watching him closely. "Tahnra tells me you speak Inland Water Tribe now."

Zuko shrugged. "Aang taught me."

Her voice softened as she turned to watch the dancers, a faint smile on her lips. "He would."

Zuko bristled despite himself. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Katara blinked in surprise. "That he's a teacher." She shrugged and said no more, joining instead in the singing and later the dance. As she moved with the other dancers, Zuko watched her, feeling questions he couldn't put into _any_ language.

* * *

The weather turned brutally cold with the winter solstice, snow deep on the ground and sky clear overhead, and the Water Tribe again drew back to the great houses. Firelight made the mountain sheep horn suggest sinuous, twisting forms, dragons emerging from a dark brown sky, and Zuko tried to let that vision guide his tool as he carved.

The songs and dances that evening seemed to ignore the shortest day, when winter's dark nearly drove the sun from the sky; instead they described wolves in the forest and whales in the sea, frequent subjects of performance. Eventually the singing gave way to the soft sounds of night and Zuko sat alone, watching the fire, remembering the vigils of past solstices, the quiet, joyous day after when the Fire Nation celebrated the end of that longest night.

He stared into the flames, remembering, until he finally forced himself to rise; he made his way carefully to Katara's sleeping platform, called softly. She wakened easily, or perhaps she was already awake, and Zuko crouched on the floor beside her. "I need a… lamp."

She propped herself up on one elbow, quirked her brow in question. "A what?"

"A…" He gestured awkwardly. "A lamp – something to hold fire in. Something small."

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression critical, or sleepy, or both, as he struggled to explain.

"The solstice… it's… The longest night – the sun's absence… in my… where I come from, for firebenders…"

"Your hand," she said suddenly

"… What?"

"Your hand." She reached out to take his hand, turn it palm-up. "I've seen you hold fire in your hand." She looked up again, no trace of mockery in her eyes. "Will that work?"

Zuko stared at her, then his hand; he called fire slowly and it flared to life in his palm. He glanced up to see her smile, then leaned back against the platform and watched the flame cradled between his hands.

"Thank you," he finally whispered, and heard her smile in the darkness; they sat together through that longest night, until the sun rose the next morning.


	26. Charmed

**Charmed**

_posted February 25, 2010_

* * *

The ship arrived on a clear winter day, the clouds high and thin and turning the sea a leaden grey.

Patches of snow still lingered in shadowed corners protected from rare sun but the wind blew almost warm as Zuko studied the vessel, a great Eastman trader painted to look like a gunship. _Western Earth Kingdom_, he thought, studying the lines. _No home port, no company banner_. The vessel's name was obscured, too, the stern painted a sloppy black; rigging hung from broken spars on the foremast, too-familiar evidence of a storm.

Much of the afternoon had passed before it sent a longboat ashore and Zuko stood among the warriors as it scraped against the beach and the man in its bow stepped lightly onto the rocks. He – the captain, likely – wore tiger-head swords slung casually at his hip, an odd affectation for a merchant vessel, but his smile was broad and friendly. "Anyone here speak Earth Kingdom?" he asked, his tone self-depreciating, and the crew behind him laughed. _Eastern Earth Kingdom_, Zuko thought, with the accent of the southern provinces.

He crossed his arms. "I do."

Sudden surprise showed on the faces of captain and crew and around him Zuko knew the Water Tribe straightened. The captain looked him up and down as Zuko returned his stare and wondered how he must look, black-haired and yellow-eyed among so much brown and blue.

The captain recovered quickly. "Well, so you do, stranger." He stepped forward, extending his hand, a foreign gesture Zuko had never liked. "Name's Jet. That out there is the _Freedom's Victory_."

Zuko took his hand reluctantly, shook it briefly and crossed his arm again while Jet continued. "These folks friendly?" he asked with a nod at the Water Tribe.

"If they weren't, you wouldn't have made it ashore."

Jet surprised him by laughing. "Fair enough." He clapped Zuko on the shoulder and stepped forward. "Who's in charge here?"

"What's he saying?" Sokka asked quietly, and Zuko shrugged.

"He wants to know who's in charge."

"In charge of _what_?" Sokka asked, and Zuko closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Wait a moment," he said, and turned to Jet. "There's no one person 'in charge.' Why are you here?"

Jet arched his brow. "We were caught in a storm – blown off course – and the _Victory_ took some damage." He nodded at the vessel bobbing gently in the bay, its anchor chain slack. "We need to make some repairs – re-provision before we try to head back. We need water, especially."

"He needs to repair his ship," Zuko told Sokka carefully; his Inland Water Tribe was still awkward and he knew how important this exchange could be. "He'll want space to work, probably a few trees from the forest. They also need water."

Sokka shrugged. "Well, water we have. The mothers will have to decide about the rest."

* * *

_Mothers_, Zuko had learned, were women who had survived the rigors of childbirth to stand as leaders within their family houses. Katara and her cousin Auka were among the youngest of those deemed "mothers," but seemed often to speak for the elders.

"Who are these?" Jet asked as he sat before a semi-circle of women, Kana in their center, Auka and Katara flanking her. Zuko sat to the side, included only because he could translate, and something in Jet's tone made him bristle.

"They're who make the trade decisions," he answered carefully. "They'll decide whether you repair your ship here."

Jet lifted his brows in surprise but Auka spoke before he could respond. "Why is he here?" she asked, and Zuko repeated Jet's words from the beach.

"A reasonable request," Katara said and many of the women nodded. Silence fell as Kana lifted her hand.

"We will consider what this _Jet_ asks for." Her ancient gaze invited no discussion as she nodded. "You may go."

"That's _it_?" Jet asked as Zuko nodded and stood. "What's their answer?"

"They're thinking about it," he hissed. "They say to go outside and _wait_."

Jet climbed leisurely to his feet, then bowed deeply in the Southern Earth Kingdom style. "You honor me, fair ladies, with your attention." He grinned and Zuko rolled his eyes even as the women looked surprised or amused or irritated according to their nature.

Katara quirked her brow as Zuko looked towards her, her expression among those amused, but she nodded gently towards the house's mouth opening. Zuko sighed, holding the fire back. "Come on. They'll call for you when they've decided."

* * *

The mothers had not reached a decision by nightfall but they invited Jet and a handful of his crew to the evening meal and the dances hosted by Auka's Sharks-Swim-The-Deep House. Zuko sighed for the countless time that night as he leaned against a sleeping platform, watching Katara and other women move across the stage. The songs that night told of visitors from across the sea, their great wind-canoes and the wealth they brought the Water Tribe.

Jet and his sailors watched too and Zuko tried to swallow his uneasiness at the captain's intent expression, his broad smile as the women turned and moved to the songs. He missed Akiak's warmth in his lap, Sokka's sharp humor, but most of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House remained in their own house that evening, leaving Zuko to stand alone between the two peoples.

* * *

Katara spoke for the women the next morning on the beach, Auka standing with arms folded beside her. "The mothers have decided. We will allow him to _re-provision_ here, and assist him in fixing his ship."

Zuko nodded and translated and Jet grinned, stepping forward and extending his hand. Katara took it, her face showing surprise and intrigue as Zuko frowned and Jet's grin widened; she finally slipped her hand from his grasp and stepped back, waiting. The other women watched Jet with her, expectation on their faces, and his grin changed.

"What else am I suppose to do?" he asked Zuko through his teeth and Zuko shrugged.

Katara broke the silence as it stretched into awkwardness. "What does he offer in trade?" she prompted, and Zuko translated.

Jet frowned, then smiled, and Zuko grit his teeth against that guileless expression. "What do they _want_ in trade?"

Katara quirked her brow as Zuko translated, speaking to him rather than Jet. "What do they teach you, across the ocean?"

Zuko rolled his eyes and turned back to Jet. "It doesn't work like that here. You're insulting them by asking them to set a value on what you've asked for." He thought of Toph's visit and the long afternoon of discussion and inspection. "They're willing to haggle, but you have to offer them something first." He pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache coming on strong. "Look, what are you carrying in your hold?"

Jet frowned thoughtfully. "Not a lot. We sold one cargo and were on our way to Chen Hu to pick up the next, so we're pretty empty." He thought about it a moment longer and Zuko tried to ignore Katara's amused expression, Auka's irritated sigh. "All we really have a lot of is salt cod. Salt beef." He grinned self-depreciatingly. "That was what we were going to offload in Chen Hu. We're all real sick of it." He must have read something in Zuko's expression because the grin turned to surprise. "You think they'd want that?"

_You're kidding_, Zuko thought, the headache growing. He turned deliberately to Katara, ignored her amusement. "They have a lot of… fish. And beef – it's sort of like mountain sheep meat. He's wondering if you're interested in that."

Katara nodded formally to Jet, tipping her head back and folding her arms patiently. _If she had sleeves_, Zuko thought suddenly, _her hands would be tucked inside like any bazaar judge_.

"You are too forgiving," Auka muttered beside her, but Katara ignored the barb as Jet again failed to take the hint.

"Go get your damn salt cod," Zuko finally hissed. "They want to _see_ it."

"Right," Jet said with an easy grin for Katara; she quirked her brow at him, amusement in her face as he held her eyes for a moment before turning away.

"_Smellerbee_," Jet roared, cupping his hands around his mouth. Farther down the beach, one of the sailors around the longboat stood. "Take your crew and bring back a cask of cod!" He paused. "Make it _two_. And bring one of beef as well!"

* * *

The wait stretched into late morning as the longboat rowed back to the _Freedom's Victory_ and sailors scrambled about her decks to load it with wooden barrels, and Zuko's headache grew. Jet stayed with the village mothers rather than return to his sailors, asking questions and seeming to not notice Zuko's irritation grow with each translation.

"The women don't rule the _village_," he finally snapped, not bothering to translate and wait for a response. Katara regarded him with her soft humor while Jet looked surprised. "They make decisions for the _house_. The men make decisions about hunting, about _war_ –" he threw up his hands in frustration. "Look, I don't really understand it either, but it's not going to make any more sense if you keep treating them like they're _Earth Kingdom_."

Jet's grin didn't falter as Zuko finished. "Fair enough, stranger," he said, twirling a stalk of beach grass in his teeth.

"What did you say to him?" Katara asked.

"_Nothing_," Zuko snapped, then rubbed his eyes. Katara stayed silent and finally he sighed, blew air through his teeth. "It's just… different, where he comes from. Where I come from." He looked up to meet her eyes, fearing her anger, but her face held humor and an odd sympathy.

"What'd she say?" Jet asked, and Zuko buried his face in his hands.

* * *

"Fish," Sokka declared as more barrels were unloaded onto the beach and portions of cod were passed among the villagers.

"Fish," Zuko agreed, letting the sarcasm leech into his tone. He should have _guessed_ that oily, salted cod gone half-rancid in its packing would be such a delicacy, the villagers exclaiming at the white flesh and sharp flavor.

"How could he have known that we needed _more fish_?" Sokka baited, wiggling one eyebrow, and Zuko scowled, adjusting Akiak on his hip. The boy had grown but still fit comfortably against his side, eating his portion of cod slowly. Zuko had declined his own slice, much preferring shellfish fresh from the shallows.

"I'm just saying," Sokka replied. "This guy's pretty smooth." He slapped Zuko's shoulder affectionately and wandered back to the warriors clustered around the crates, helping himself to another slice of cod as Zuko snorted.

Jet soon emerged from the crowd to approach Zuko, walking confidently up the beach. Tahnra broke away from her mother and the other women, scampering behind Zuko to watch as Jet neared. She had been quite taken by the Earth Kingdom sailors – First Mate Smellerbee, especially – but turned surprisingly shy around Jet. She hid her face against Zuko's thigh as Jet reached them.

"Yours?" the captain asked, nodding at Akiak, and Zuko startled.

"Do I look Water Tribe?" he snapped, even as the thought warmed him, like Tahnra's arms around his knee. Angry blue eyes rose in his memory, the last choking breaths of a dying man, and he buried the warm feeling under regret.

"Whoa," Jet responded, his grin still easy. "Just asking." He crouched down in rocks to smile at Tahnra, who edged farther behind Zuko. "And what's your name?"

"He wants to know your name," Zuko said in Inland Water Tribe, and she smiled hugely but didn't answer.

Jet's grin just deepened. "Don't fret, sweetie – I'm a patient man." He stood again and nodded at Zuko. "Thanks for the trade advice."

"Don't mention it," Zuko said flatly. Jet arched his brow but didn't respond, turning back to the mothers and warriors directing his sailors to bring crates up the beach.

"Fish," Akiak said somberly, and Zuko smoothed his hair.

* * *

The barrels of fish and beef pleased the mothers – "_Round_ boxes," Iluah the fisherwoman remarked, her tone intrigued as she traced the staves – and the warriors helped Jet and other crew of the _Freedom's Victory_ bring tents and tarps and rigging ashore. They set up in the clearing where the waterbenders practiced as Zuko stood with Orvik and Jet to describe the replacement spars needed.

"We completely lost two yards and the top foremast," Jet explained. "There's a few more that could be repaired, but frankly I'd prefer to replace them as well. What kind of wood grows around here?"

"Fir," Zuko remarked absently. "They build their canoes from cedar, but it's too soft to make good spars." Jet nodded as Zuko turned to Orvik.

"They want wood-of-the-depths," he explained. "About this big around, straight, with as few branches as we can find. Three, maybe four trunks."

Orvik nodded. "I'll send two men to find suitable trees," he said. "Tell me – what manner of tools are those?" His gesture took in the saws and planes, mauls and hammers the ship's carpenter and mate carried ashore.

"I'll make sure they show you their ways," Zuko promised and Orvik nodded again, satisfied.

"Our Lady also took some damage and our carpenter has a fine hand for joinery but he lacks an artist's touch," Jet said as Orvik moved to talk with his other assistants. "Anyone here with a knack for carving?"

Zuko nodded absently, seeing Katara enter the clearing. "You'll want Arluk – but be ready with something in trade. Iron chisels, maybe – or a shark's skin, if you have one. Excuse me."

Katara smiled as Zuko approached and turned her hand to gesture at the activity before them. "These People of the Earth are industrious," she remarked. "So busy, already."

"They want to go home," he said simply. "They are grateful to Faces-The-East Village for the help."

Katara nodded, but a shadow marred her expression as one of the _Victory_'s mates called for him to translate. She smiled as Zuko excused himself again and he wondered if he had imagined that momentary sadness.

* * *

"I could use a guy like you," Jet said that night.

They sat in the ship's camp around a central fire; the night was cool but the rains had ceased and the _Victory_'s crew had taken Zuko's advice to return the village's hospitality. A huge man with the dark complexion of the Southern Earth Kingdoms sang a lively ballad to the Water Tribe's amusement, then two lanky Air men danced before the fire, their spins and leaps delighting Tahnra and other children. Such men were common on the great Eastmen vessels, their pay doubled at the end of the journey if the ship avoided the doldrums.

"I'm sure you could," Zuko replied and they spoke no more but Jet's words disturbed his sleep that night, memories of open seas and smiling eyes troubling his dreams.

* * *

Jet interrupted his morning swim, startling Zuko as he stood on the beach gazing at the channel's horizon. "I'll race you to the _Victory_ and back," he challenged, bouncing a stalk of grass in his teeth.

Zuko began to snort and turn away, but Jet's smirk irritated him.

"A bottle from your reserves when I win," he said, and Jet grinned.

"The story of why you're here in the Water Tribes when I leave you in my wake," Jet responded, and Zuko returned the grin.

The crew cat-called and whistled as they paced each other around the vessel, bobbing gently in the morning calm. "You can take 'em, Captain," Smellerbee hollered, and Zuko was glad he'd swum all these cold mornings of winter. He channeled his inner fire into moving his arms and legs through the chilly water and staggered up the beach yards ahead of Jet.

"Brandy, if you have it," he said, breathing hard, and Jet grinned.

"Only for you, stranger." He turned to walk back to camp, his crew ashore slapping his back and shouting consolation as Zuko watched, bemused. He steamed himself dry as Katara stepped carefully down the beach.

"Are all your people this odd?" she asked, a smile in her voice, and Zuko shrugged.

"They're not my people. I just know their language." She seemed to accept the answer but he noticed her watching him with the same odd shadow as the day moved toward evening.

* * *

The Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom sailors worked well with each other, cooperating to down three great fir trees at Orvik's direction, move them to the temporary camp to strip the bark away and plane them into shape. They cooperated away from the work, too, with sailors trading glass bottles and metal jewelry for carved boxes and intricately woven blankets. The ship also carried a tattooman, whose art fascinated the warriors.

"It's like carving – on your _skin_," Sokka said as they watched, disgust and interest coloring his voice. He slapped Zuko's shoulder. "I'll do it if you will," he said cheerfully, and Zuko turned to walk away, certainly that _someone_ needed a translator at that moment.

That night Jet and a few of his crew danced among warriors and women in Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House, their motions odd and sharp compared to the Water Tribe's flowing forms. The captain moved opposite Katara through much of a dance; he would have looked absurd, trying to copy her patterns, had he not been so confident. The sight irritated Zuko and he tried to focus on anything but Jet's smirk, Katara's humoring smile, but soon enough the dance ended.

She found Zuko's eyes as she stepped down, made her way to sit next to him and pull Tahnra half into her lap, and his irritation faded as the warriors moved through the next dance.

* * *

Zuko found himself settling back into the rhythms of shipboard life surprisingly quickly, even forgoing his swim one morning to help Smellerbee explain to Arluk how the _Victory'_s figurehead Lady should look when repaired.

"She's like their crest," he said carefully. "A patron spirit that protects the ship. It's very important to the ship's crew that she look right." _Close enough_, he thought as Arluk nodded, and when he finished Smellerbee beamed and invited him to help install her in the place of honor below the bowsprit.

Katara found him later that day, sitting beside him as he paused for a moment between tasks. He looked up but she stared at the work before him for a long moment before finally speaking.

"Are you leaving with them?" she asked quietly.

The question surprised Zuko. "No."

Katara nodded and said no more and soon stood and smiled and went back to the other waterbenders, helping re-supply the ship's water casks.

_She looked… relieved,_ Zuko thought, but Jet's shout quickly drew his attention away.

* * *

The repairs were completed quickly, barely more than a week all told when the _Freedom's Victory_ crew prepared old sailors' dishes their final night ashore to thank the Water Tribe again. "Your hospitality honors them," Zuko translated, and all nodded in satisfaction.

Later, as Smellerbee led the deck crew in a lively jig, Jet sat beside Zuko again. "You sure you don't want to come with us? Not many learn to speak Water Tribe, and that'd be real useful to me and my crew if we end up making this a regular route."

"There's more than one Water Tribe language," Zuko said, watching the dance, Katara beyond with her children leaning against her. "And you still owe me that bottle of your finest."

Jet chuckled. "That I do. But you must want to get back home. I'd be glad to have you, even if just for the return voyage."

"_Home_…" Zuko said thoughtfully, watching Tahnra clap her hands in delight, Akiak fall asleep on his mother's lap. He finally turned to Jet, who watched him with an odd expression on his usually smiling face, and Zuko realized he'd spoken in High Fire nation, the words evoking the great capitol city. He shrugged. "I don't know if I could tell you where to let me off to go 'home,'" he said in Eastern Earth Kingdom.

Jet continued to watch him oddly. "Right…" he said quietly, and Zuko was glad when he said no more.

* * *

Longboats carried the furled tents and stowed tools back to the _Freedom's Victory_ the next morning as Jet and the crew made their farewells. He finally stood to grin at Zuko, the night's odd silence gone. "What say we have another race, stranger?" Jet asked. "I'll make it two bottles if you win." His expression held something more than competition, but Zuko nodded. Katara rolled her eyes even as Sokka and the warriors shouted encouragement and soon the two men were cutting cleanly through the water towards the _Victory_, drawing up her anchor with a clatter of chain and a sailor's chantey.

"You never did say where you were from," Jet shouted.

"You never asked," Zuko responded, cutting under the stern and out of sight of the village to take the lead as the crew leaned over the gunwales to watch.

"I don't need to, you Fire Nation _scum_."

The venom in his voice made Zuko turn, tread water to look at him. "What?" he asked, surprised at the sudden hatred on Jet's face.

"Don't deny it, you murdering _bastard_," he snarled, then shouted. "_Now_!"

Lines splashed into the water around him – _a net_, Zuko realized as it drew tight around him. "Good work, boys," Jet called, scrambling up a ladder onto the ship. Zuko glared at him as the crew hauled him aboard, not bothering to struggle against the net, but Jet returned the expression, his eyes cold. "That village will be better off without _you_ in their midst."

They pulled him from the net even as the longboat returned; sailors winched it up as the sailmaster shouted commands and sailors unfurled the great square sails. Zuko felt the ship begin to move as he waited, as Smellerbee gestured for him to hold out his wrists – then struck out, fire in his hands.

Jet blocked the strike, knocking the blow away with the hook of one tiger-head sword. "Easy, firebender," he said sarcastically. "You're _our_ honored guest now."

Zuko bared his teeth and lunged but the crew closed in on him, yanking his arms back and trapping him. _Katara_, he thought suddenly, remembering her face when she asked if he would leave with them, her relief at his denial. _She'll think _– he struggled against the crew, fighting to get to the edge of the deck, to the water's freedom. _She'll think I left without even a farewell_.

Desperation rose in him as every sailor he knocked away was replaced by another, Jet smirking beyond them all – then he heard a commotion astern. "_Captain_," someone called in Western Earth Kingdom, the rest of his words meaningless. Jet looked surprised, then turned leisurely to Zuko, still struggling against his captors.

"I'll deal with you later," he said, and struck Zuko viciously in the side of the head, the weight of his sword behind his fist. Darkness fell around him as Zuko dropped to the deck.

_Katara_, he thought desperately, then his head met something _hard_ and he thought no more.


	27. Trapped

**Trapped**

_posted February 28, 2010_

* * *

Zuko woke suddenly as the ground lurched beneath him. Voices murmured over him, above him; snatches of different languages among the clanking of iron and creaking of wood and an odd softness beneath his head.

"Don't _touch_ him –"

"Bad – bad. Bad…"

_Western Earth Kingdom_, Zuko thought, the voice soft but firm; a woman's voice perhaps. His head throbbed and his body ached and he struggled to open his eyes against the haze of pain. _Where am I?_

"Stay _away_ –"

"Can help – let I –"

"_No_."

"Trying to _help_," he finally gasped, speaking to all of them. Silence fell around him for a moment, broken only by the clanking of iron and the creaking of wood. _Where am I_? he thought as voices murmured around him, low and thoughtful while a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"_You_ – I can't understand – speak in Inland Water Tribe!" the woman – another woman, a different woman? – said frantically, and Zuko realized he'd spoken in High Fire Nation, the tongue of his birth, of distant cities... He grit his teeth and summoned the strength to speak again, the world moving around him even as he couldn't seem to open his eyes.

"They're – trying to help," he managed. _Katara_, Zuko remembered. _Her name is Katara_. He held on to that thought as he tried to remember Western Earth Kingdom. "She – _healer_," he managed, and the murmuring stopped. "_Bender_ – water."

The voices murmured again. _Western Earth Kingdom,_ Zuko thought – _a woman's voice?_ Iron clanked around him, a sound like anchor chains and the room seemed to creak like… He tried to open his eyes as voices murmured around him.

"_Help_," one said in Western Earth Kingdom, followed a moment later by a second voice: "_Healer?_"

"I don't know what they're _saying_," another voice gasped – a familiar voice, edged with unfamiliar panic, the tones clear and fluid in a language Zuko thought he recognized.

"Help," he gasped. "They're trying to help."

"Bad, _bad_ – need _help_."

_Where am I_? he thought, trying to struggle up, trying to open his eyes again. A hand pushed his shoulder down, against the ground, against _softness_. He struggled, trying to work free, then a cool hand pressed against his face, his unscarred cheek.

"Stay down – you're _safe_," he heard, but he heard the lie behind the words and struggled to open his eyes. Warm, deep blue filled his vision; eyes that were somehow familiar, eyes that shouldn't be there.

"Katara?" he whispered.

"You're hurt –"

"_Bad_ – can _help_…"

"They're trying to _help_," he forced. "What – what do you need?"

She shifted beneath him – her leg pillowed his head, he realized – and chains clanked. "My hands are tied together," she said quietly. "It's heavy – I can't really move."

His head throbbed, the clank of iron and creak of wooden beams distracting him from the voice – _her_ voice – as others cut through it.

"Help, can _help_…"

_Where am I_?

"_You_ – " another voice hissed – the first voice, fear behind the ferocity, familiar somehow despite the odd, flowing tongue. "Tell them to help me stand."

"Needs your help," he said carefully in Western Earth Kingdom and the other voices stopped murmuring. "Help her – _stand_." Zuko grit his teeth against a sudden wave of pain, squeezed his eyes shut against the throbbing in his head. _Where am I?_ he thought as the earth rolled beneath him like a ship's hold.

A sudden commotion sounded near him, voices speaking in strange languages, one like flowing water, others like the lesser port cities on the Western Coast; sounds like the clanking of iron and creaking of wooden beams and then the floor was hard beneath him.

His head throbbed as chains rattled beside him and Zuko tried to open his eyes. Figures stood over him, arms braced forward and palms together; he tried to shield himself instinctively – _from what?_ – but he couldn't move his arms – _why can't I move my arms?_

Pressure built in his head, prickled in his limbs, and panic rose in his throat. _No_, he thought, _Not again, not this, not this again_, but he didn't know what it was he cried out against, his own voice ragged and weak in his ears before darkness rose up and claimed him again.

* * *

Zuko woke slowly, feeling thick and groggy and aching everywhere. Distant singing reached his ears; it seemed to near as he struggled to wake, then he felt a soft touch against his forehead, stroking his hair. He stirred at that touch, tried to open his eyes, and the singing stopped.

"_No_," he whispered. "Keep singing."

The air stayed silent a moment, then someone took a short breath that he felt somehow, and the singing started again, closer this time, and Zuko stopped trying to open his eyes, let himself relax back into softness. His head throbbed but not as much as he almost remembered. _Where am I_? he thought, remembering Jet's smirking face, sudden pain against his skull. He forced his eyes open to see Katara leaning over him.

The singing stopped again. _She looks awful_, he thought, face smudged with blood and eyes swollen, but he tried to smile. "You're _here_."

She smiled in return, some small worry disappearing from her eyes, and he realized it was her hands on his forehead, in his hair, her lap his head rested on. "_You_," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Bad." Zuko closed his eyes, tried to remember but could only conjure flashes of pain and panicked words. "Better."

Her hand smoothed his hair again and he leaned into the touch; her fingers stilled and she sighed.

"You – they – hit your head. Hard. I've seen it before, but…" Chains clinked as she shrugged, but he heard the fear she tried to hide.

_Concussion_, Zuko thought. _A bad one_. He opened his eyes again to see that worry etched on Katara's face; he reached up, on impulse, to smooth it away but his hand wouldn't move. He tried again, felt pressure at his wrists and heard chains clank softly. He struggled to raise his head, then saw the thick iron manacles that trapped his arms together from wrist to elbow; an old design, made to immobilize firebenders.

"How?" he finally asked, letting his head fall back; he felt her shift as she started to gesture but chains clanked as he realized she, too, was restrained.

"They helped me – helped me stand so that I could move your blood, take away the damage."

"They?" Zuko tried to turn his head where she seemed to indicate. Two forms sat nearby; he blinked and focused on two women watching him carefully, green and brown among crates and bundles in the dim light. _A storeroom_, he thought, as Katara continued.

"You told me to let them help, and I did, but now I don't know what to do."

Zuko struggled to sit up, accepted her help, her hands steady against his chest as he shifted his legs, finally leaned back against the bulkhead. The manacles restrained his arms but they restrained his _breath_ even more, pushing his shoulders in and blocking his chest. He tried to breathe deeply and felt only the faintest of fire in return. "You're Earth Kingdom?" he finally asked.

"West –" one of them responded, and he switched to Western Earth Kingdom.

"You Earth Kingdom?"

"Yes. We – I – crew of _Nu Shi Lian_." Zuko dimly recognized her gesture, hands together in the Earth Kingdom style, ordinary manacles loose and clanking on her wrists. "Name _Jin_. This – Song. Doctor."

"Jin," he repeated. "Song."

"You… Fire Nation?" the second woman asked, studying Zuko's skin, his eyes, and he nodded reluctantly.

Jin chuckled and said something in response and he saw Song shrug at the edge of the cabin as Katara looked between them with worry and irritation.

"What are they saying?" she asked.

"The one on the left is Jin. I think she's part of the _Victory_'s crew – the _Nu Shi Lian_'s crew. The other one is Song. Jin says she's a doctor – a healer."

"_Dragon_," Jin said, her voice firm but a note of humor to it and Zuko realized she'd used the diminutive form of the word as she continued. "We plan, take back _Nu Shi Lian_. You help?"

"What did she _say_?" Katara's voice was strained, anxious, and Zuko wished suddenly he could take her hand in his to stop her nervous fidget.

"They have a plan to take back the ship, and they want us to help."

Katara's exhale was deep, noisy, catching in her throat like a sob.

"Tell her _yes_."

* * *

The ship's name was _Nu Shi Lian_, the Lady of the Lotus, and Jet's rebel crew had taken her as she sailed from Yin Do to Chen Hu. Zuko listened carefully, his Western Earth Kingdom poor but the tale was familiar; many ships had been taken following the Northern Earth Queen's decree and the response of other nations.

"Captain, _dead_," Jin said with a nod. "One-officer, _dead_. Two-officer, _dead_." Song remained quiet but her eyes were sharp as she looked between Jin, Zuko, and Katara. "Some crew, below." Jin shrugged. "Most sail."

"Most of the officers – the leaders – were killed," Zuko translated and Katara nodded. "She says that some of the crew are below, probably imprisoned in the hold – that's where Jet stored the salt-fish. Most of the crew followed Jet, though."

"Why would they do that?" she asked. They sat side by side against the wall now and Katara's shoulder brushed his as she tried to gesture despite the manacles. Zuko's restraints bore chains shackled to a ring set into an overhead knee, but Katara's dragged loosely on the ground. "He took their ship – wouldn't they fight?"

Zuko shrugged. "Most sailors only want to be paid. Jet would have promised to pay them more if they accepted his command. He's also got his own people leading them, watching them to make sure they're loyal."

She stayed silent, considering as she had several times in the conversation, and Zuko turned back to Jin. "You three-officer?" he asked, and Jin nodded.

"Uncle takes _Nu Shi Lian_ – learn from him." Zuko strained to sift meaning from the words – he had never mastered the nuance of Western Earth Kingdom, more tonal even than Inland Water Tribe.

Song, it seemed, had booked passage aboard the _Nu Shi Lian_ to travel from Chang Ye Shen to Chen Hu, agreeing to serve as ship's doctor for the voyage. She had wide eyes and a soft smile, deer-like and gentle as she cleaned the scrapes on Zuko's hands and shins, tearing strips from her long skirts to bind the worst. His wrists were raw under the shackles, but they would have to wait.

"Why is _she_ down here?" Katara asked; Zuko translated and Song smiled gently while Jin laughed. Zuko smiled too as she spoke.

"Jet told her she could be his concubine or his prisoner," he translated, and Katara frowned as Jin made a sharp motion with one hand and grinned. "She… stabbed him in the neck? No – I think she blocked his qi."

"What?"

"Well, she hurt him as a warning, and then he threw her in here."

Katara smiled then, her face more friendly as the women returned her grin.

* * *

"How many tongues do you speak?" Katara asked quietly, waking Zuko from a light doze.

"Hm?" he asked, clearing his throat. "Four. No – five, now." He wished he could rub his eyes, settled instead for blinking. "And some of a few others." He shrugged. "Jin and Song speak Western Earth Kingdom – I understand some of it, but not all. Toph spoke Eastern Earth Kingdom – as did Aang, though it's not his own tongue." He avoided mentioning Jet, tried to avoid _thinking_ of Jet, for now.

"So many words," Katara said softly, some nuance to her voice he couldn't read. "And there are different people, for these different tongues?"

Zuko nodded, then leaned his head back against the bulkhead, closed his eyes against the faint throb that lingered in his temples. "And more."

She said no more and Zuko dozed again, waking at the distinctive noise of a bolt sliding. He sat upright, momentarily confused; the dark broken only by a single deadlight and the storeroom stifling close. Warm weight lay against his side, like Tahnra or Akiak curled against him. _No_, Zuko realized as she stirred. _Katara_.

The door swung open then, creaking on rusted hinges, and Zuko tensed.

"Stop?" An unfamiliar voice asked in the trade jargon. "Fight – no?"

Zuko gathered himself to answer when Katara sighed beside him, almost a hiss. "No fight," she responded in the trade jargon, then muttered under her breath in Inland Water Tribe. "For now."

The speaker nodded, though, bobbing his head in the Earth Kingdom way, and moved forward; Zuko recognized him as one of the Air men who had danced to the Water Tribe's delight. "You," he said in accented Western Earth Kingdom, nodding at Zuko. "She fights. Captain say no hurt – she fight, we hurt _you_."

Zuko held his gaze, unmoving, and the man shrugged and turned back to the companionway.

"What did he say?" Katara whispered.

"Nothing," Zuko responded as the man stepped into the room, keys jingling in his hands. He moved towards Katara and she tensed, but he spread the fingers of one long hand, held out the keys in his other. "He's not going to hurt you, he's going to unlock the – he's going to untie you. Keep still."

She nodded, lifting her arms slightly and the Air man unlocked the restraints with slow deliberation. They fell open and she pulled her hands back and he picked the manacles up, handed them to someone unseen in the companionway. He nodded at her and spoke again in Western Earth Kingdom. "Food, soon – if good."

The room lay silent for a moment after the door creaked shut and the bolt scraped closed. "He said we would get food soon," Zuko told Katara before she could ask. He quirked his brow as Jin and Song talked quietly against the opposite bulkhead. "He said you fought."

Katara looked away quickly, rubbing her wrists absently. "I might have fought."

"You might have fought," he repeated, and saw the edge of her face move, drawing into a scowl.

"For someone who speaks five languages, you seem to have trouble understanding me," she snapped, and Zuko couldn't help but grin.

* * *

The meal arrived later, plain rice and salt cod with a scoop of pungent fermented vegetables. The familiar smell tickled Zuko's nose as Jin tried to show Katara how to use chopsticks. She soon shrugged and proceeded to eat delicately with her fingers as Jin looked sidelong at Song, her face amused.

"Your people are very odd," Katara said as she ate and Zuko could only shrug in response. She fed him, too, after she had finished her rice and cod (she only wrinkled her nose at the vegetables) and he tried to swallow his embarrassment. His hands rested on his lap, increasingly uncomfortable in the heavy manacles and he forced himself to be grateful that her face betrayed no humor, no smirk, only faint concern. She bent water up from a shallow jug for him to drink and soon they all four sat quietly again in the dark.

"Plan," Jin finally said, and Zuko nodded, tipping his head before remembering the Earth Kingdom's gesture.

"Jin says she thinks the crew will follow her orders if Jet is neutralized," he soon translated for Katara. "She's the highest-ranking officer left alive, and I think her father owns the ship itself." He nodded to himself. "If Jet's gone, they'll have to rely on her for their wages, and nothing motivates a sailor like the threat of not getting paid."

"How does she plan to _neutralize_ Jet? And his crew?" Katara asked and Zuko translated, curious himself.

"Ah," Jin said with a sheepish grin, and shrugged. "You help?"

Zuko allowed himself to smirk. "We help."

They talked quietly as the deadlight overhead dimmed, no daylight above to diffuse into the storeroom. Zuko felt the sun set as they strategized how to best immobilize Jet and his rogue crew, and at length they lapsed into silence. Beside him, Katara said nothing as he rolled awkwardly onto his side, manacled arms before him, but after a moment he felt the touch of light fingers on his arm, comforting warmth against his back, and at length he slept.

* * *

Two of Jet's sailors opened the storeroom late the next morning, saying nothing as one stepped inside. Zuko stood, shoving himself to his feet against the weight of the manacles as the man approached him. Jin shouted as Katara hissed, but Zuko held his chin high and refused to be intimidated. The sailor, a huge, burly man with tattooed forearms glared at him, then pulled keys from his belt and reached to unshackle Zuko's chains from the wall.

"Come," he grunted, tugging lightly at the chain.

"I'll be fine," he said quickly as Katara stepped into a bending posture. "Stay here – maybe I'll learn something."

She nodded reluctantly but didn't relax; the sailor shut the door behind Zuko and slid the bolt shut. He shook his manacles to distract them while he studied the bolt – it had no lock on the outside, but it would be difficult to slide it open from the inside. "Where take?" he asked but received no answer as the sailors pulled him through the ship – astern, he thought.

The spacious aft cabin confirmed that thought, the ocean glinting blue through the port lights, and Jet bent over a table, studying charts spread across its surface. He straightened as the sailors pulled Zuko to the middle of the room, and Zuko studied his face. One eye had been blackened and one cheek marked with the familiar reddened gash of a water whip – though deeper than any that had graced Zuko's skin. _I may have fought, indeed_. He hid his sudden smirk as Jet glared at him coldly.

"You should have joined me when I offered, _firebender_," he spat.

Zuko said nothing, trying to keep his stance loose and threatening even as the manacles weighed on his arms.

His silence seemed to irritate Jet, who scowled. "It's because of _you_ that she came along – if not for you, she'd be safe back at her village. What did you do to her, to make her follow?"

Zuko grit his teeth to maintain his silence and Jet's expression shifted dangerously.

"No matter," he said, smiling suddenly. "She'll be a pretty prize when we return to the Earth Kingdoms. The Western governors are so much easier to deal with when you soften them with gifts." Rage surged in Zuko as Jet's smile slid into a leer. "Too bad you won't be there to _translate_ for her."

Fire flooded Zuko's vision as he lunged, nearly pulling the chain from the sailor's grasp before it jerked him to a halt, skewing his arms backward even as he strained against the bonds. "I will _kill_ you if you touch her!" he hissed, but Jet merely regarded him with dark amusement. _Don't lose it, Zuko_, he told himself, breathing deeply, remembering his sister's taunts.

"As for you, my friend," Jet continued. "I'm sure there's some noble family eager to pay for your safe return." Zuko glowered. "Or another family eager to pay even more to ensure you _don't_."

Zuko forced himself to push the rage aside, be rational. "What harm have I done you?" he hissed.

Jet's expression darkened. "You _murdered_ my parents!" He followed the shout with his fist.

Zuko's head rocked back with the blow and his temper snapped. "_I am not the Fire Nation!_"

Only his breathing broke the silence for a long moment as Jet's fist stayed raised, his face twisted in hate. He spit to one side on the polished deck. "You people are all the same. This ship was just as bad, chartered for the Fire Nation."

"So you declare yourself a pirate and imprison its crew, help yourself to its contents." Zuko made his tone scathing, but Jet only smirked.

"I'm a _patriot_, fighting a war no one else has the guts to acknowledge." He nodded to the sailors. "Take him back."

"Keep telling yourself that," Zuko snarled, but allowed the sailors to pull him away.

* * *

"What happened?" Katara asked as the guards shoved him back into the cell and shackled his chain to the bulkhead again. The door shut and the bolt scraped closed and Zuko drew himself back up to lean against the wall.

"I think I made him mad," he said, tonguing his cut lip, and Katara frowned.

"Here," she said quietly, raising her hand – then paused. "We've no more water, but… I can take away the pain, fix it by bending your blood." Zuko tensed and her expression showed understanding as she stayed still.

Zuko nodded slowly, acknowledging the silent question; he closed his eyes as she moved closer and felt a prickle chase across his skin. He tried to subdue the terror, the memory of being held helpless; he focused instead on her fingertips brushing his cheek as the throbbing receded. The prickle faded and he heard her move away; he drew a deep breath and opened his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, and she nodded.

Song watched with interest from across the storeroom. "What that?" she asked.

Zuko shrugged. "She bender. Moves water. Moves blood, like water. Healing." He steeled himself. "Fighting, too."

Song's brows raised in surprise and she moved across the floor to examine his cheek; he tensed, but allowed it. She finally nodded and sat back on her heels, began to speak slowly, looking at Katara.

"She's curious about your blood-bending," Zuko translated. "She wants to know if it's a common technique."

Katara shook her head. "No. Few have the power, or the control. I learned it from a wise woman, a hermit in the woods. Her mind wasn't right, but she knew many techniques new to me and to the Inland Water Tribe." Her gaze unfocused for a moment, some remembered sorrow in her eyes before she continued. "I taught Auka when I came back from – when I returned. One of my students might be able to learn, but it's too early for her yet."

Song nodded as Zuko translated, then asked another question. "She wants to know how much blood you can move," he said carefully. "If you can control a person."

Katara looked away, not meeting his eyes; her face bore no shame, but something like regret. "I can hold two, maybe three people at once." She sighed. "More, if the moon is full, but it won't be for some time."

Song nodded again as Zuko translated, then spoke quickly with Jin, whose expression showed interest. Their speech was too fast, too soft for him to understand, but he heard the words "blood" and "captain" and "fight." Katara stared into the distance for a long time and Zuko watched faint emotion play over her face as the deadlight again dimmed.

* * *

The Air man opened the cell the next morning, nodded to Katara. "Come," he said in the trade jargon. "You see." She considered him warily, then stood and stretched deliberately and stepped into the companionway, glancing at Zuko before she disappeared.

Fear clawed at Zuko as the door closed and the bolt scraped; it grew as minutes ticked by into what seemed like hours. He felt the sun's progress, moving along the sky and tried to focus, tried to meditate despite the pressure on his chest, but he listened too sharply for sounds of skirmish, of a woman's screams. _A pretty prize_, Jet sneered in his mind, and Zuko tried to remember his childhood prayers to keep her safe.

He finally heard the bolt scrape back, the door open, and Katara stepped into the storeroom, clothed in dark green Earth Kingdom robes. She smelled of jasmine and incense and linen, bringing memories of the great palace in Chang Ye Shen, its famous gardens and grounds. _Uncle_, Zuko thought suddenly, but he set it aside.

"What did he want?" he demanded.

Katara shrugged, twisting her hair into a knot and gathering it at the nape of her neck. She smelled clean, too, of fresh water and _soap_ and for a moment Zuko's envy displaced the lingering fear as she studied her sleeve, the fine stitches around its hem. "He wanted me to leave. He told me that my children needed me, and that we were better off without you."

Zuko stared at her in surprise before he spoke. "He's right – you should go, if he'll let you – they need you." He dropped his eyes to stare at his lap.

Cloth rustled beside him and he felt her touch his arm. He looked up as she slipped her fingers between his shackled hands but all he could see was the warmth in her eyes. "_You_ need me."


	28. Planned

**Planned**

_posted March 5, 2010_

* * *

The guards left them alone save for meals, time slipping by too slowly and too quickly at once. The ship rocked beneath them and Zuko knew they moved quickly through the water; he knew also that Katara needed to return to her village, even as she refused to leave. Panic gnawed at Zuko at the thought of her given to an Earth Kingdom official, of her trapped an ocean away from her children, but she remained unconcerned.

"He won't hurt me," she reassured Zuko, but her confidence couldn't quell his anxiety and he tried to channel his fear into their plan to take back the vessel.

"Four parts," Jin explained quietly. "_Nu Shi Lian_ crew below. _Nu Shi Lian_ deck crew. _Pirate_ crew," she spat the word. "Take helm." She nodded at Zuko as he translated.

"Their plan has four parts," he explained to Katara. "Free the loyal crew in the hold. Fight Jet's crew. Convince the _Nu Shi Lian_'s crew still working on deck to lay down their weapons. Take the helm – where the steersman stands."

"The _Lotus_ crew – they will come to us?" she asked.

Zuko shrugged. "Let's hope so. If we capture Jet and his crew, they'll be forced to accept Jin's command or be imprisoned – or worse. The penalty for piracy is steep."

Katara nodded. "Then we will capture Jet – and his crew." Her determination warmed him, even as he didn't share her certainty.

Jin watched him; he nodded to show that he understood and Katara agreed.

She smiled. "Song, takes crew below. I take helm." She said something else that Zuko didn't understand, then nodded at him. "You – _Dragon_," Jin gestured at Zuko, her smile warm even as the diminutive irritated him. "Lady Ocean. You, take pirates? Make sure crew does not fight?"

Zuko nodded again. "She wants us to take the pirates and the crew on deck." He paused, smiled slightly. "She calls you 'Lady Ocean.'"

"Does she," Katara responded, her tone pleased. She smiled at Jin, whose face brightened. Beside her, Song looked amused. "Tell her we will take these pirates – and their 'captain.'"

They discussed more of the plan, Zuko questioning Jin about the ship's layout, the size of the crew and their usual stations; then the focus turned to breaking free of the storeroom. Song rattled the manacles around her own wrists – simple cuffs, designed to restrain a non-bender.

Zuko examined them. "Need _sharp_ – pull away." He tried to gesture at the weakness in the mechanism, edging across the room as far as his own chains would allow.

Song nodded, shifted her hands to rummage in her long robes. "Maybe – this?" she asked, drawing something from a sleeve pocket. "I take, from crew." She held out a dagger, unsheathed it awkwardly to reveal a narrow blade.

"That good," Zuko replied. He nodded at her manacles, tried to point despite his own restraints. "_There_ – pull."

Song examined the cuffs, the weak place where the chains attached. She talked quickly to Jin, who nodded and extended her own cuffed wrists. Her hands moved quickly in the dark and then the chain fell away. Jin grinned, pulling her hands apart and stretching. The heavy cuffs remained in place, but let her free to move her arms and hands. Soon she had freed Song and they turned their attention to Zuko's manacles.

"You now?" Song asked.

Zuko shook his head. "Need key."

Jin looked thoughtful, sitting back on her heels and seeming to listen.

"Why aren't they freeing you?" Katara asked quietly.

"Mine are different," Zuko explained. "They're made to trap firebenders – they're impossible to get out of without a key."

Jin finally tipped her head and smiled, then tapped on the door and called something through it. "_Wait_ –" Zuko yelped, but he already heard a response from the companionway beyond. "I didn't mean _now_," he hissed in High Fire Nation, then braced himself as the bolt slid across the door.

The door swung open and the Air man stepped inside; his gaze going immediately to the chains laying slack on the floor and Zuko readied himself to leap, restrain him before he could sound the alarm –

The man nodded to Jin and she grinned, spoke quickly to him. He smiled quickly, dipped his head and closed the door. The bolt didn't draw closed but Zuko hardly noticed.

"You speak _Air_?" he demanded, staring at Jin.

She shrugged. "_Voyager_," she said simply, but the word had an unfamiliar inflection. Footsteps sounded outside the store room and Jin grinned. "Ready?"

_For what?_ Zuko wanted to ask, but then the door opened again and the tattooed guard emerged from the darkness with a frown, looking at Zuko without glancing at the chains. Zuko again tensed, ready to lunge at him, but Jin moved first, clasping her hands together and swinging at the guard's head. The manacles around her wrists gave the blow real force and the man staggered, shook his head. Zuko shoved him into the wall before he could react, digging his shoulder into the man's ribs and using the confusion to hold him in place.

"Keys," he hissed as the guard struggled – then went rigid. Zuko released him carefully to see Katara extending her hands; she smiled faintly and nodded and he almost grinned as Song stepped forward to pull the keys from the guard's belt.

Soon the heavy manacles fell away and Zuko stretched his arms, taking deep breaths now that the pressure on his chest had gone. Jin and Song worked to chain the guard to the wall with their own manacles, then gagged him. He sagged to his knees as Katara lowered her arms and released his blood.

The Air man stepped through the open door to talk softly with Jin and Zuko straightened his spine, felt his neck and back creak as he savored the feel of expanding his lungs, the feel of fire roaring back to life within him. He rubbed absently at the abrasions on his arms, listening to the foreign sound of the Air language.

"Here," Katara said quietly, extending her hand and raising her brow in question. Zuko nodded and this time the tingle of his blood moving was less terrifying, almost soothing as the scrapes disappeared.

Song stepped up in her quiet way, pulled the dagger from her sleeve again and handed it to Zuko. "You use?"

He accepted it, flipped it over in his hand, unsheathed it and examined it. Characters shimmered on the blade and he stared. _It can't be the same_, he thought.

"Those marks mean something, don't they."

Zuko looked up in surprise. Katara's gaze was steady and he nodded. "It says 'Never give up without a fight.'" He ran his thumb over the characters etched in fine steel, tried to remember the feel of a brush in his hand.

Katara nodded, a smile joining the determination on her face. "You should have been Water Tribe."

* * *

The Air man's name was Gyucha, and through him they learned that much of the _Nu Shi Lian_'s crew resented Jet's authority, muttering amongst themselves even as they followed his orders.

"Jet want go North," Jin translated. "_Nu Shi Lian_'s crew want go home – back to Earth Kingdom." Zuko nodded and Gyucha said something else, but Jin didn't translate it, only blushed and dropped her eyes as he grinned.

According to Gyucha, the watch would change in an hour and give them a window in which to move. Zuko nodded as Jin translated, and they waited in silence, listening to footsteps creak on the deck overhead. Zuko stretched again, stood in a basic stance to loosen his muscles; he breathed deeply and exhaled flame in a measured stream.

Jin was amused, Song intrigued. Gyucha grinned, tipping his head in an ironic bow. Katara just smiled, moving her fingers in a way that suggested pulling waves towards her and into the air, and the vessel creaked as it listed briefly to port.

* * *

The time to move came soon enough. Song left first, stepping quickly away to free the officers and others trapped in the hold below, the guard's keys tucked carefully into her sleeve. They followed a moment later, going the opposite direction down the companionway as the familiar sounds of the watch changing reached Zuko: yawns and greetings and a distant bell. Gyucha took the lead, followed by Zuko, then Katara and Jin. They paused before a hatch while Gyucha listened to the activity beyond. Zuko looked back to Katara, quirked his brow; she grinned in return, mouthed "_start_" as Gyucha pushed the door open.

She struck high, water already coiling up from the sea as Gyucha leaped into the air and scrambled into the rigging. Zuko struck low, filling the deck with a surge of fire that startled the crew as Katara moved forward and waves poured over the sides of the vessel. She swung her arms and ice creaked along the surface, freezing the nearest men in mid-motion.

Zuko envisioned the expression on her face as he jumped to the next deck, surprising the crew by laying out sheets of flame. He could feel the fatigue lingering in his body, cramped and still for too long under the manacles, but it felt _good_ to move, to release the fire simmering inside him. Behind him, he heard Katara laugh as ice cracked again; the mismatched pirate crew swung at him but he dodged the blows and sought Jet instead.

Zuko found him soon enough, knocking several of Jet's sailors overboard with a burst of fire. Jet grinned manically, drawing his swords as Zuko rooted his stance on the wooden deck.

"Why am I not surprised," Jet taunted as they circled each other. "Trust a _firebender_ to attack the captain of a merchant ship without provocation."

Zuko ignored him, tried to ignore the screams and splashes and cracking of ice in the background to focus on blocking the sword blows bare-handed. He'd heard of too many firebenders, arrogant and prideful in their skills, who lost a limb to a bladed weapon – one reason he cherished his own swords. He thought of them wistfully, then Jet lunged at him and Zuko dodged, slipping behind him to strike through Jet's defense for a moment.

"What's the matter, firebender? Can't fight without a navy to back you up?"

Zuko heard Jin shouting behind him but didn't have time to make out her words; he felt desperation begin to overtake him as the fatigue built. Jet was a vicious fighter, using or ignoring classical swordplay as the mood seem to strike him. Zuko ducked another blow, gathered himself to strike again – then Jet froze. Around them the air went suddenly silent, and Zuko relaxed his stance to notice the expectant stares of the crew left standing.

Katara stood opposite the great ship's wheel from them; her hands were raised, holding Jet's blood with her bent fingers. He looked enraged and hurt, struggled to speak but no words escaped his throat.

The sight sickened Zuko, even as it filled him with relief. "Who needs a navy when you have a waterbender at your back?" he said clearly in Eastern Earth Kingdom, then deliberately turned away.

Katara closed her hands and Zuko heard Jet fall to the deck behind him. The crew watched them warily, most of the pirates imprisoned in ice, and he struggled to maintain his command posture even as he wanted to slump in exhaustion.

Jin stood behind Katara, conflict written on her face. Zuko nodded at her to move, take the captain's place by the helm. She swallowed and stepped forward, straightened her spine and looked at her crew. Zuko didn't understand most of what she spoke to them but he heard the words for "victory" and "honor" and "loyalty" and "punishment" among them. She gestured soon enough and two of her crew stepped forward to haul Jet up. Jin spoke and gestured again and they took him away as she turned to others watching.

Katara dropped her hands, wiped sweat from her brow as she moved to stand beside Zuko. He smiled, then sank to the deck to lean back against the gunwale; she followed and they sat side by side as Jin shouted orders and the crew responded.

* * *

They set anchor as soon as they found a suitable location: a wide bay that curved around the ship, a channel beyond reaching into the horizon.

"Where you go?" Jin asked after the pirate crew had been imprisoned and the regular crew had sworn oaths of loyalty and the remaining officers had reclaimed their stations. All had easily accepted Jin as the new captain, helping her to bring the ship under its rightful command – though none could find the Western Earth Kingdom's flag, nor the company banner. "We take back, for trial," she had replied, when Zuko translated Katara's inquiry about the pirates' fate.

Jin's question surprised Zuko, for he didn't have an answer. "Where are we?" he asked Katara, who gazed at the sweep of the bay around them.

Her brow furrowed. "I don't know," she replied quietly.

* * *

They worked to answer that question in the time that followed, first trying to decipher Jet's notes left on the chart table. His diagrams were unlabeled, smudged with ink, but Zuko could see that the ship had meandered for some time among the broad archipelago described in their lines.

Gyucha joined Jin and Zuko and the navigator's apprentice to look over the charts and try to determine their bearings. "He watch _Nu Shi Lian_'s course," Jin explained. "No write, but see." He navigated in the archaic way, the method indecipherable to Zuko but his estimate matched the sightings they took that evening as the sky cleared and the stars shone above.

"So you know where you are, in relation to your land across the ocean," Katara said carefully. "But you don't know where you _are_?"

Zuko scowled as Jin packed the sextant away, the navigator's apprentice fretting as she told him to shush. "There are _many_ tools. If I had a proper _chart_, I could _easily_ tell you where we were on it. That's why I'm _–_" but he stopped when he saw her teasing smile.

The next morning Zuko lay Jet's diagrams next to a blank sheet of parchment, closed his eyes and tried to remember his own charts, the ones printed in the Fire Nation and the ones drawn by his own hand. Jet had simply spat when Zuko had asked what his own markings met, and the rest of his crew proved as helpful. Zuko sighed and took up a stick of charcoal and began to draw.

Katara soon came to stand beside him. "What are you making?" she asked as he sketched lines across the surface.

"A chart," he explained, remembering the curve of the coast, the great inlet to the south. "It's a way to write a map – a way to show where you are, and show others where you've been. Show them how to go where you've been."

He pointed to a broad curving line. "We are here. Beyond us is the channel we can see from the deck." He moved his hand over the markings. "Beyond the channel… is what I hope to find out." He readied himself for another jab at "his people," but Katara stayed silent. When he glanced up, her face was intent as she studied the sketch.

"I never realized it could be drawn like that," she said absently, and Zuko tried to suppress his sudden smile.

Gyucha joined them soon, adding his own observations to the chart that grew on the parchment, and Jin paused in the cabin several times through the day as she oversaw additional repairs to the ship. The crew had been anxious to restore the _Nu Shi Lian_'s name to her stern, to repaint the Lady that graced the bow, and Jin's hands were smudged with paint from her inspection of their work. She studied the chart, nodding as Gyucha pointed to a particular section and they conversed quietly.

"What's she saying?" Katara asked with a faint frown.

"I don't know – they're speaking Air."

"Ah – a language you _don't_ speak?"

This time, Zuko heard the teasing in her voice before he bristled, and instead smiled.

* * *

Zuko berthed with the officers, the narrow bunk giving him an odd sense of nostalgia even as he found he missed the Water Tribe's open lodges. He savored the cramped bathing room, though, filling the battered metal tub and heating the water within it. The soap felt like a dream after so long without and he borrowed a razor to cut his hair and shave away captivity's stubble.

Afterwards, he studied his face in the scratched mirror. The scar dominated his visage, unchanged since he was fourteen and the burn newly healed. Around it, he saw the face of a familiar stranger – not Water Tribe, certainly, but perhaps less Fire Nation than it had been. Zuko turned away and tried to savor the feel of truly clean skin and hair, but found himself thinking instead of dawn-lit beaches.

* * *

Katara shared Song's berth, just forward of the captain's cabin, and after the novelty of the chart faded Katara spent most of her time opposite the chart table poring over Song's medical scrolls. Song sat nearby, busy with her own work when she had no patients to attend. They sometimes asked Zuko to translate, but most times let the images and diagrams convey more than words ever could.

"I've _felt_ most of that, in the blood that flows through the tissue," Katara said one afternoon, gesturing to a diagram that to Zuko looked obscenely flayed. "But I didn't realize it _looked_ like that – that it could be made flat to 'study.' Like your _chart_," she said with a smile.

That chart now sprawled across the parchment, some lines marked in ink, others still charcoal scrawls, but Zuko felt no closer to determining where Looks-To-The-East village lay in – or if they had left it far behind, as he began to fear. Frustration rose in him as the days dragged by; _They need her_, he thought, drawing Tahnra and Akiak's face to his mind.

The thought troubled him as he stood on deck one afternoon, looking out over the water to the distant gray shore. Song had scoured the ship's supplies and emerged with Earth Kingdom robes, garments of a wealthy merchant that now layered Zuko against the cold. He enjoyed the familiarity even as he missed the freedom of the Water Tribe's simple wrappings.

Katara was still enchanted with the robe she had obtained during her "talk" with Jet – she remained tight-lipped about it, only quirking her brow until Zuko had given up asking. "Do all your people cover themselves so?" she had asked with another quirk of her brow and for a moment Zuko had feared she would strip to a loincloth right there. She had only smiled at his expression, some nuance in her gaze, and Zuko had torn his eyes back to the charts and hoped she didn't see the flush in his cheeks.

She wore the robes still as she stepped to lean on the rail beside Zuko. They were of a practical cut but softened her shoulders and outlined her waist and the fine linen seemed to fascinate her. "How did they make this color?" she asked, fingering her sleeve. "I've never seen such a green."

Zuko frowned. "I… don't really know. I've never been to a dye-house."

She accepted the answer, pulled gently at the hem to see the stitches flex. Zuko watched her for a time, then reluctantly turned his gaze back to the sea.

The afternoon deepened into evening and the watch changed behind them, only a few men on anchor detail as the ship rocked gently in the bay. Katara had dropped her sleeve to rest her hands on the rail as Zuko thought suddenly of seeing the ship floating before Faces-To-The-East Village. He frowned, the lingering question catching in his throat as a waxing moon lit the thin clouds in the sky.

"Why… did you stop fighting?" Zuko asked suddenly. "When… you first came aboard. You said you fought – why did you stop?" He regretted speaking the words as soon as they left his mouth, but forced himself to continue. "I've seen you fight, and you stopped most of Jet's crew on your own. Why did you let them take you then?" She said nothing at first and Zuko found himself holding his breath as he waited for an answer; he let it out slowly, holding the fire back.

"His sword," she finally said, moving her hand as if to curl it around an imaginary hilt. "Here," she traced the air where the guard would be. "It had a blade." She glanced up briefly, then dropped her hand back to the rail. "You were on the ground, not moving. Bleeding. It was against your throat." She watched the waves lap below them as Zuko tensed. "He said he would kill you if I kept fighting. I already held three of his crew by the blood; I couldn't hold him as well." She shrugged. "So I stopped."

Zuko had no response as she fell silent; he felt the sun slip below the horizon as he stared numbly at the water. _Why?_ he wanted to ask, but couldn't force his throat to work, even when he felt her study his face. _Why?_

He finally realized his hands had gone numb from gripping the railing in front of him. He let go of it slowly, then flexed his fingers, felt the joints creak with the cold. He tucked one hand into his sleeve but extended the other slowly, laying it gently on Katara's where it rested on the railing.

She went completely motionless as Zuko held his breath, his pulse pounding his ears; then she slipped her fingers through his and squeezed them gently. Her fingers were warm, soft, strong, as he had always known and he returned the squeeze as he let out his breath.

They stayed on deck until full dark fell and Zuko began to shiver despite himself and she smiled and pulled him belowdecks to a quiet supper in the captain's quarters.

* * *

"That's Moon-Rising Village," Katara said suddenly, stabbing her finger onto the chart. "Between two rivers, with a flat beach. Right here."

Zuko studied the lines laid out beneath her finger, a short distance from the channel they now anchored in. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "I'm sure." She moved her hand, tracing the lines absently through narrow passages and scattered islands. "I think… Faces-The-East Village is up here, somewhere." She shrugged. "But Moon-Rising Village will help us go back.

Zuko nodded, noted the wide channel that led to Moon-Rising Village. "We can sail there easier than back to Faces-The-East Village, then." He measured the distance with his eye, made an internal calculation. "We can probably sail there within a day."

Jin and Gyucha nodded when Zuko translated that information. The navigator's apprentice looked between them for a moment, then studied the chart again with a scowl.

* * *

They celebrated that evening at supper, after the charts and plans had been cleared from the table. Jin pulled a bottle from the captain's own stash – her uncle's, she explained with a soft smile; she would later pour a cupful into the ocean, but now she led a toast for Katara and Zuko.

"For your help, friends," she said with a warm smile, and around the table the officers and Song echoed her sentiment.

"Your prisoner owes me a bottle of this," Zuko said in Eastern Earth Kingdom and the officers who understood the language laughed. He soon found himself telling the story of racing around the _Nu Shi Lian_, when she had been the _Freedom's Victory_. The brandy warmed his tongue and he may have embellished the tale; Jin laughed aloud when the translation reached her. When he finished and they drank again to his victory, she offered him a full bottle for the feat.

"No, no," he refused, pushing the bottle back into her hands. "You need it – way back to Earth Kingdom." She smiled and stowed it away with the others as Zuko sat back on the bench he shared with Katara. She gave him a bemused look as she again sipped at her cup and set it aside.

"What did you tell them?"

Zuko grinned and relaxed back against the cabin's wall. "I told them how I beat Jet in a race around this ship."

"That's it?"

"I may have exaggerated part of the story."

"Exaggerated."

"Right." She gave him an odd look, part smile and part something else and he returned the smile. She picked up her cup again but made no move to drink from it, simply stared at the liquor remaining in it – most of what had been poured. Zuko closed his eyes and let the conversations flow about him, Earth Kingdom accents and the low melody of Inland Water Tribe.

"You are going with me to Moon Rising Village?" Katara asked softly.

"Yep." He opened one eye to study her glass, debated offering to finish it; decided against it as the warmth spread to his limbs. She said no more, only touched his hand softly before she stepped into Song's cabin, but Zuko dreamed of her that night as the ship rocked gently below him.


	29. Blessed

**Blessed**

_posted April 2, 2010_

* * *

They raised sail the next morning, the deck crew hauling away to chanteys as the topsails billowed out in the breeze and the anchor creaked slowly up. The _Nu Shi Lian_ moved ponderously into the channel as Zuko watched from the stern, arms folded and Katara standing beside him.

Jin stood aft of the helm, issuing orders to helmsman and crew, watching the sails' trim and the ship's course. Her hands were white-knuckled with tension, clenched tightly at the small of her back, but her voice was confident and her orders true. _A tight ship_, Zuko thought with approval.

"Was your ship like this?" Katara asked suddenly. Her face showed curiosity and a faint wistfulness as she avoided his eyes.

He finally shrugged. "My ship was smaller. More like the _Good Earth_ – Toph's ship."

Katara nodded, still watching the activity on deck, sailors making up lines and adjusting sheets. "And you were its captain?"

Zuko hesitated for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly. She said no more and he risked a glance at her; Katara now watched the horizon rather than the deck, her eyes unfocused and her brow faintly furrowed. He wondered suddenly what she was thinking, realized with a jolt that he wouldn't mind speaking of that time to her, if she wanted to hear of it. She stayed silent though, as the _Nu Shi Lian_ cleared the land's shadow and the rigging sighed with the wind.

Low clouds poured over the channel and shadows of rain darkened its distant reaches; Zuko inhaled deeply to smell it on the wind. The flurry of making sail slowed and Jin dismissed the port watch as the crew aloft scrambled down from the yards. She turned to Zuko and Katara quickly, faint anxiety in her expression, but Zuko nodded slightly and she relaxed and turned back to the helm.

The air grew chill as the wind strengthened and Zuko tucked his hands into his sleeves. Katara copied the motion, glancing at him and folding her arms; their eyes met for a moment and he quirked his brow. She flushed slightly and frowned as she tried to keep the sleeves from riding up around her wrists.

"Your garments are very odd," she said irritably as another gust of wind hit the ship and shivered through the rigging. "Though I suppose I can see their purpose, if you do not _work_ to move your ships."

Zuko surprised himself by grinning. She glared for a moment then smiled quickly and they watched the ship and the sea.

* * *

Jin ordered the sails furled and the anchor lowered as twilight fell. If their calculations and guesses were correct, Moon Rising Village lay beyond the channel's next bend, but Zuko agreed to not risk sailing an unfamiliar passage in the dark. Katara nodded as he translated the decision. "There are many shoals in our waters," she said. "Your ships are not made for this coast."

They took a quiet dinner in the captain's quarters. Jin stood to toast Katara and Zuko and the gathered officers raised their glasses in salute. Zuko raised his own glass in acknowledgement and Katara followed a moment later, eyes flicking to him to watch the motion. He grinned and clinked his glass against hers, then raised his brow and drank with the crew. She sipped shallowly and barely grimaced before she set the glass down, but her smile was warm as the conversation around the table.

* * *

Dawn broke as sailors scrambled into the rigging, the sea painted violet and silver with barely a hint of breeze. The _Nu Shi Lian_ moved slowly through the water as they again raised anchor, then glided into the channel. The air lay still and silent and chill on deck, though the topsails belled out and the ship left a gentle wake through the water.

Zuko again stood on the stern deck, enjoying the sun's warmth; Katara stood nearby, watching the sea, when the silence broke with a great _whoosh_ of air. Zuko looked up, startled, but Katara's face held joy as she rushed to the ship's rail; she scrambled up onto the gunwale and Zuko lunged forward to catch her, but she held tight to a stay with one hand and extended the other in greeting.

Zuko followed her gesture to see great, sleek black whales approach, the _killers_ spoken of so reverently during the seal hunts. They moved swiftly towards the vessel, breeching and blowing, white patches green-gray beneath the water as their fins cut the surface like knives.

"_Cousins_," Katara said softly the whales split into two groups, moving around the ship in perfect rhythm. "I thank you for your welcome."

The crew paused in their tasks to watch; some tipped their heads reverently while others smiled. _A good omen_, Zuko thought.

The _Nu Shi Lian_ sailed into Moon Rising village as the day slipped into afternoon, moving along the shore as much with the currents as with the wind. The village itself came into view slowly, a long row of houses like Looks-To-The-East village but with different painted patterns, different monuments. _Just as she said_, Zuko thought, studying the broad beach, the two rivers that framed it.

Figures on that distant stopped what they were doing and soon canoes launched from the beach, gliding through the water like the killer whales had that morning. Zuko shared that observation on a whim, but Katara shook her head. "Moon Rising Village is of the Otter Clan and the Heron Clan and the Salmon clan. There are only a few Wolf houses – most of them are Ravens."

Zuko opened his mouth to ask that that even _meant_, but Katara had scrambled up onto the gunwale again, spreading her arms wide and bending water from the sea. It spiraled into a tight column, then broke into a fine mist that rejoined the sea with hardly a splash. She nodded in satisfaction as she stepped back down to the deck. "Now they know it's me," she said simply, then turned to Jin. "Ask her if she is sure she cannot come ashore," she told Zuko. "Tell her that it would honor the village greatly if she and her crew were to visit."

Zuko nodded and translated and Jin smiled softly and shook her head. "We go – make tide, make ocean, for home."

Beside her, Song smiled and folded her hands. "If you come Earth Kingdom, we find? Port Chang Ye Shen."

Zuko clasped his own hands and bowed. "Yes. We thank."

"What'd they say?" Katara asked as he straightened.

"Jin declines; she wants to catch the tide so that they can get to the ocean and back to the Earth Kingdom. Song invited us to visit them in the Northern Earth Kingdom."

Katara smiled and inclined her head, then nodded at the rigging above. "Tell them not to… _furl_ the sails."

Zuko quirked his brow in question but she only smirked and slipped into a bending stance, raising her arms slowly. Around them, the ship didn't shudder, barely even shifted, but he could feel the slight change in momentum, how the currents moved _around_ them. He nodded and Katara's smirk deepened as he turned to Jin. "She holds ship now, with water." Jin's eyes widened as she glanced over the side, then back to him. "She say hold trim, lose no way."

"Tell her that the village will send canoes to meet us," Katara said as Jin nodded. "I will hold the ship through the greeting, then move them back into the channel when we've departed."

"What?" Zuko frowned in surprise. "This is an _Eastman_ – this is a _huge_ ship – I thought you were going to just guide it through the bay…" He stared at her. "Can you really _hold_ it? Turn it back into the channel?"

She smirked in response. "Tell her."

Jin raised her brows as Zuko translated. "She really hold _Nu Shi Lian_?"

Zuko shrugged, trying to hide his own surprise. "She say she hold." Katara's smirk deepened into triumph as she watched the exchange. _She's showing off_, he realized, and folded his hands to watch.

The _Nu Shi Lian_ slowed as the canoes neared, shouted a greeting. Katara called out, the words escaping Zuko before she nodded to him. "You should go with the canoes. I'll follow, once I've turned the ship." He quirked his brow again, but she just smirked and nodded towards the Zhong's ladder that the deck crew scrambled to deploy. Jin stood beside it and Zuko bowed deeply to her, folding his hands in the old gesture of thanks. Her smile was brilliant in return and he nodded again before scrambling down the _Nu Shi Lian_'s great curving hull.

The warriors in the waiting canoe regarded him curiously. "Welcome, stranger," the steersman said and Zuko dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"Katara says to go – she'll join us in a moment." The steersman nodded and Zuko accepted the offered paddle and the canoe moved away from the great Eastman ship. He paused in his strokes with the other warriors to watch as the _Nu Shi Lian_ slowed, lay dead in the water for an instant, then turned ponderously in its own length. The sails luffed, then hung slack for a moment, then billowed out again as the vessel turned into the channel and the wind caught them. Zuko found the sight unsettling, the patterns he'd learned to read meaningless as the water lay smooth around the hull.

A figure stood on the high stern, arms raised and earth-green robes aflutter; Katara dropped her arms and the _Nu Shi Lian_ lurched forward, cutting a fine wake through the water. Zuko watched her dip her head, then dive smoothly off the stern. The waves rose to meet her and she surfed towards the shore, a broad smile on her face as she passed the canoe, the currents moving around her so that she almost appeared to walk on the waves. Zuko smiled despite himself as he dipped his paddle into the water in time with the other warriors.

The canoe soon scraped the beach and Zuko stepped out of it, helped carry it ashore. He nodded his thanks to the warriors around him, then stepped up the rocks to the people gathered along the tideline. Katara stood there already there; her eyes held laughter and challenge and he almost grinned before she turned to the broad man before them.

"Arnook, leader of Star-That-Shines-To-The-South House," she began, her voice as cadenced and formal as her words. "I present to you a guest of my own father's house, who comes from across the oceans." She gestured to Zuko, sweeping her hand towards him. "As we are of water, so he is of fire." She grinned then. "My brother calls him Xtl'ikgut'tlak."

_Dragon_, Zuko thought wryly as Arnook nodded gravely; he bowed low, hand-over-fist as he would to the Eastern Earth King himself.

Arnook tipped his head as Zuko straightened, then spoke in a deep, somber voice. "Well met, honored guest. I am Arnook, of the Heron clan." His lined face held humor, then. "And what do you call yourself?"

Zuko folded his hands in his sleeves; he saw Katara's smirk beside Arnook and wanted to smirk in return even as he kept his own face impassive. _When did this become a game?_ he thought, then focused on the formal greetings. "Xtl'ikgut'tlak is fine, Lord Arnook. I thank you for your greeting and your hospitality."

Arnook nodded graciously. "Welcome, then, Xtl'ikgut'tlak, guest of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House." He turned to Katara and his face held warmth. "Welcome, Katara of Mist-Hides-The-Shore House."

Zuko saw his own surprise mirrored on Katara's face for an instant. She flushed, looked sidelong at Zuko, then dipped her head briefly. "Forgive me for correcting you, honored host, but I am again of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House."

Arnook's brows lifted in surprise before he nodded, and tension lay suddenly over the gathering until a woman stepped forward. _A water sage_? Zuko thought as warriors parted and inclined their heads to allow her passage. She wore long robes intricately patterned with blue and white, necklaces of shells and stones and beaten copper; her eyes were vivid Water Tribe blue and her smile was gracious and sad. She lay her hand briefly on Arnook's forearm, then tilted her head to Katara and Zuko.

"Welcome, honored guests. May the Mothers' blessings lay upon you." She slipped her hand into one sleeve and withdrew a fluted shell; she dipped her fingers into it and extended her hand to mark Katara's forehead with thick blue paint. Katara smiled and closed her eyes, and the woman turned next to Zuko. Her eyes held curiosity and he met her gaze for a long moment before closing his own eyes to accept the mark. He barely felt the pressure of her fingers before it was replaced by the chill of drying paint.

Zuko heard the rustle of her robes as she stepped back and opened his eyes again. The calmness in her expression struck him then, the deep peace of spirit he had seen in ascetics who roamed the volcanic lowlands. She smiled slightly and tipped her head to nod, then Katara laughed and stepped forward and they embraced like sisters. "It is so _good_ to see you, Katara," the water sage said softly.

"It's been too long, I know," Katara responded, then stepped back. "I have much to tell you." She didn't look at Zuko, didn't even glance in his direction, but he felt his face heat anyway as the two women turned towards one of the great houses standing farther up the beach.

Zuko watched them go, then quickly fell into step beside Arnook; he tried to remember how the _Li-wuk_ guests had greeted Hakoda on that distant gray morning and cursed himself for not paying more attention to the protocol, but Arnook spoke easily. "My daughter, Yue," the chief said fondly, but with faint sadness beside a father's quiet pride. "She is One-Who-Remembers for the village."

* * *

They spent the remainder of the day in hasty celebration, Star-That-Shines-To-The-South House leading the village in honoring them as guests. Katara told of the capture, their escape, their journey to Moon Rising village, while Zuko leaned back and listened. Her expressions changed fluidly with the sweep of her arms, illustrating the tale and describing Jet's treachery, the crew's daring. She sat close beside Yue, though the sage – the _One-Who-Remembers_ – sat atop a padded cushion.

Later, as Zuko nodded and spoke with Arnook and his nephew Anyu, who had steered the canoe away from the _Nu Shi Lian_, Katara and Yue bent their heads and whispered together like girls. Zuko overheard their talk at times, Tahnra and Akiak's names slipping through the conversation along with the descriptions of vivid blue dyes, and he found himself almost enjoying the formal meal. Three warriors soon stepped to the raised platform at the back of the lodge and as a fourth pounded a steady rhythm on a skin drum; their dance mimicked the sharp movements of a hunt, and Zuko sat forward with interest when one of them bent water as well.

Arnook turned to Zuko before he could consider that further. "What does it mean, that you are of fire?" he asked.

Zuko schooled his smirk, remembered the manners learned during long hours at countless formal dinners. "As your warrior bends water," he gestured to the dancer. "So I bend flame."

Arnook nodded graciously again and Zuko noted the intrigue beneath his façade of mild interest. "A rare talent, surely – one I had never imagined." He paused to incline his head. "Perhaps a demonstration?"

Zuko bowed in return. "If it would please my host." They turned to watch the rest of the dance and Zuko found himself surprised to realize that he was almost _enjoying_ himself, enjoying the subtle exchanges of formality without the sharp machinations that lurked under the surface at Earth and Fire courts alike.

The warriors soon stepped down and Arnook nodded and Zuko stood. He pulled his long outer robes off, draped them carefully where he had been sitting; he bowed to Arnook, then to Yue, then to Katara. He allowed himself to let the smirk show as he straightened and met her eyes for an instant, noted how she returned the expression as he stepped up and into a beginning firebending stance.

As a firebender, he lacked the ocean's volume to work with, the power of tides and waves and deep currents, but fire was more fluid and flexible with the right touch, could disappear and flare in ways that water could_ never_ mimic. Zuko moved slowly through the opening forms, fire flickering around him, then launched into an advanced set, controlling his kicks and blows to make fire surge over the watching house. He drew flame from the central cookfire, making it coil into dragons then disperse into sparks, demonstrating _control_ rather than _volume_.

He finally closed the form, dropping to knee and hand for an instant and breathing heavily; he bowed to an imaginary opponent as the house murmured in appreciation, then bowed again to Arnook. The chief nodded his approval. "A fine dance, Xtl'ikgut'tlak," he said, voice resonating through the space.

Zuko flushed as he dipped his head, held back his stammer; he hoped the darkness hid his reaction. "Your praise honors me," he said carefully, then regained his seat.

Katara sat beside him, and leaned close. "Truly a fine _dance_," she whispered as a group of young women move forward to take his place on the main floor.

Zuko scowled and refused to look up. "It wasn't a _dance_!" Katara said nothing, but he could hear laughter in the weight of her silence and his scowl deepened with his embarrassment. She danced next, pulling water from the cisterns and making it weave through itself, then inclined her head to Yue in invitation.

Yue smiled in response and stood and accepted a drum and a stick from another woman and stepped up to the platform. Katara bowed shallowly and stepped down to sit beside Zuko again, close enough that he felt the heat from her skin as Yue began to sing. She had a beautiful voice, the words describing a long journey along beaches and through forests, a wanderer searching for a home.

Katara touched Zuko's arm, leaned close. "Sokka wanted to marry Yue, once," she said softly. He glanced at her then, surprised, but she watched Yue turn gracefully around the platform as she sang. "The elders had approved the match and they began to court, but then the falling sickness struck her. The One-Who-Remembers said that the spirits had marked Yue for their service." Katara's eyes held sadness then. "It was an honor she couldn't refuse, even though Sokka begged her not to." She sighed. "He took to the woods for a long time, after. When he returned, he vowed to take no wife but her."

Zuko thought of Sokka as Yue's ballad continued, her voice hauntingly lovely.

"I was so glad when he met Suki," Katara continued after a moment. "She helped heal something in him. They know they'll never marry, and on Kyoshi, the children always stay with the mother's family, but… they make it work."

She said no more and soon Yue stepped from the stage to appreciative silence. Katara reached out to take her hand for a moment and Yue smiled sadly. No other performers took her place and the lodge soon quieted with sleep.

* * *

Zuko bent fire on the beach the next morning, enjoying the thoroughness of a long routine without fear of setting the rigging ablaze. He tried to stifle his disappointment when he finally turned and found the beach empty, tried not to think of the smirking challenge in Katara's eyes.

"Moon time," Arnook said simply when Zuko returned to Star-That-Shines-To-The-South House and Zuko tried not to roll his eyes. Instead, he accepted the bowl of stewed clams and seaweed that a young woman handed him.

"I worry that those of Faces-To-The-East Village will miss her," he said simply as he ate, but Arnook smiled.

"They do not worry. The Ones-Who-Remember have spoken." Zuko nodded, though the meaning escaped him, and tried to lay aside the worry.

"You remember Anyu, my nephew," Arnook said after the meal had finished; the young man stood beside his uncle and Zuko tipped his head in greeting. "Anyu is honored to serve as your guide during your stay at Moon Rising Village."

Anyu proved quiet but likable, younger than Zuko but with an air of experience. He led Zuko through the village, naming each house with a gesture and introducing Zuko to the crafters and warriors they met in between. They paused for a long time to watch warriors shape spear-points, then the familiar shape of a canoe prow drew Zuko's attention. Anyu grinned and introduced him to the carvers: an old man named Ontak and a young woman named Sialu with an infant slung across her back. She smiled warmly while Ontak sized Zuko up.

"You work with Orvik?" he asked, and Zuko nodded. Ontak sniffed, but his gaze held approval. "He's a good carver – but you won't learn _this_ from him." Zuko accepted an adze and worked with them the rest of the day, Anyu lingering nearby and carving a mountain sheep's horn, and as evening fell Ontak nodded in satisfaction.

"You'll do," he said as he set his adze back into a chest and Zuko accepted the comment as high praise. Sialu smiled at him and Zuko returned the smile – then hastily looked away as he realized she nursed her infant. He flushed as Ontak chuckled, but the old man bade him a polite goodnight as Anyu stood and accompanied Zuko back to Star-That-Shines-To-The-South House.

_What _is_ moon time_? he wondered yet again during the evening's songs and dances. Katara and Yue seemed to be the only women absent, though Zuko admitted he couldn't be sure. He found himself missing her then; her company and her laughter, the easy closeness that had grown between them through captivity and planning, the way she lay her hand on his arm or shoulder to emphasize a point or get his attention. He remembered the laughter and silent challenge in her eyes as they stood on the beach, the easy silences on the _Nu Shi Lian_'s deck.

_Careful, Zuko_, he thought, and tried to think instead of returning her to Tahnra and Akiak, but the memory of her fingers between his lingered.

* * *

A few days passed slowly but pleasantly as Zuko spent his time carving with Ontak and Sialu and as a guest of Star-That-Shines-To-The-South House. He bent fire on the beach one morning, then paused to watch the sea as had become his habit. He thought of the _Nu Shi Lian_, hoped the ship had made it through the archipelago and into open waters to catch the trade winds. He thought of the great open oceans and the lands far across them, of Looks-To-The-East Village through the winding passages south.

He finally turned to make his way back to the house, but Katara sat atop a huge driftwood log, a warm smile on her face. Zuko started to smile as she hopped lightly to the stones below, but then her hair tumbled around her shoulders and his innards twisted. She tipped her head to grin but Zuko could only stare, his heart pounding and his mouth dry, as she picked her way carefully down the beach.

_You're in love with her, Zuko_, he realized suddenly, and then didn't know _what_ to do except slide into a bending stance.

He lost the sparring match, toppling backwards into the water with barely a fight; he stared up at her from where he sprawled in the shallows. Katara quirked her brow and stepped forward and extended her hand to help him up and he tried not to flinch at the feel of her palm against his.

* * *

Zuko barely made it through the morning as he and Katara were honored again, this time with gifts beside the words. Arnook presented them with provisions for their journey back to Faces-To-The-East Village: a canoe, paddles, tarps, winter clothing, baskets of smoked fish and meal. "It honors our village to help you return to yours," Yue said graciously as she swept fragrant cedar smoke over the canoe, over Katara and Zuko in turn. _Like a favor paid forward_, Zuko thought, trying not to fidget during the blessing.

Katara stood beside him, accepting each gift and nudging Zuko for the proper response. The brush of her arm along his felt electric and he tried not to shiver, tried not to think of how they sparred together on warm windy days as he nodded and bowed and again expressed his thanks to Arnook and his house.

The midday meal seemed part of the ceremony, each dish formally presented with its own blessing, but Zuko barely tasted the food through the nervousness that settled in his belly, increased every time Katara smiled or caught his eye. The conversation flowed around him, meaningless as he tried to stifle his rising panic, until Yue waved slightly to catch his attention.

"What?" he asked, his mouth full, and Yue smiled patiently. _Stupid_, Zuko thought, and swallowed hastily.

"Are you a Wolf, Xtl'ikgut'tlak?" she asked, "Or a Raven?" Her voice held nuance, her eyes an intensity that Zuko didn't understand, so he shrugged.

"Sokka," he started, then faltered at the sadness that shadowed her face; he forced himself to continue. "Sokka… said once that I was under the protection of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House? My – where I come from, it's not – I don't know," he finally admitted, but Yue nodded, the sadness gone and a gentle dismissal in its place. He bristled as she stood, then forced himself to calm, forced himself to not shiver as Katara glanced at him and rose to follow Yue, forced himself not to watch her go.

He startled again when Arnook cleared his throat and Anyu raised his brow. "You are ready to be cleansed?" the chief asked, humor in his voice, and Zuko forced himself to nod. He followed them and a handful of warriors to a steam bath set behind Star-That-Shines-To-The-South House, absently told the story of re-taking the _Nu Shi Lian_ again, and finally the heat reached his bones, relaxed his muscles and with it his mind.

_Wait, Zuko_, he told himself as another billow of steam filled the bath. _Just wait_. _And see._

* * *

They feasted _again_ that night, this time in farewell, and the singing and dancing stretched late. Zuko grew almost bored, the long steam bath making him pleasantly tired despite the anxiety that still gnawed at him. He had seen Katara only briefly during the meal, when she had smiled warmly and his stomach twisted in response, but now he sat beside Arnook and Yue's cushion lay empty as another singer took the main platform. _Wait_, he told himself again, but the memory of her smile made him shiver.

The feeling only grew as he heard a commotion beside him and Katara and Yue finally slid into their places, trying to stifle laughter. Katara glanced at him and _giggled_ and Zuko felt himself flush as he tried both to scowl and smile. Yue regarded them both somberly but with a smile in her eyes as she withdrew the fluted shell from her sleeve.

"Another blessing?" Zuko asked softly, hoping his voice sounded casual.

Katara nodded, her cheeks flushed as she smiled. "A very special blessing."

Yue smiled as she dabbed paint on Katara's forehead, then turned to Zuko, her face intent as she marked him as well. He scowled and tried rub it off but Katara grabbed his wrist as Yue raised her brow and handed him a carved cup. "Drink," she whispered under the dancer's songs, and the intensity in her eyes made Zuko flush again.

_Another blessing_, he thought with an internal groan, but he drank and handed the cup back, trying not to tremble at the feel of Katara's fingers brushing his wrist. She intercepted the cup, though, drank deeply and handed it back to Yue, who accepted it with a smile and a nod and a whisper that Zuko didn't quite hear. Katara giggled again and took Yue's hands and they seemed as young girls sharing a secret.

Zuko forced his attention back to the dancers as the sound of her laughter made the steam bath's calm resolve shatter. He tried to think of firebending, pure and clean and consuming, but he shivered when Katara slipped her fingers gently through his.


	30. Flowed

**Flowed**

_posted April 25, 2010_

* * *

The morning dawned still and misty as Anyu helped Zuko pack the canoe with Star-That-Shines-To-The-South's gifts and provisions. The tide would reach full flood and start to slack just before noon, governing their departure and allowing time for a leisurely farewell.

"It is senseless to paddle against the current," Katara had explained, and Zuko had tried to nod as he always did, tried to keep the gesture casual even as he felt nerveless. He'd slept little that night and now struggled to compose himself as he waded from the water. What seemed like the entire village had assembled for the farewell, Yue at the fore as she and Katara talked quietly.

Katara had folded her green Earth Kingdom robes to pack them away and now wore Water Tribe blues and grays again, a loincloth around her waist and a blanket draped over her shoulders, a broad hat protecting her face from the drizzle. Zuko tried not to glance at her, though the smooth curves of her legs drew his eye like never before; he forced himself to turn to Arnook, standing sheltered from the rain beneath the spread of a cedar tree.

"Your hospitality has honored us," Zuko said, and bowed deeply. "We will tell of your generosity when we return to Faces-To-The-East Village."

Arnook nodded gravely, approval in his eyes and Zuko allowed himself to smile. He tipped his head at Ontak standing in the crowd and Sialu beside him, infant in her arms, then stepped the short distance back to where Anyu held the canoe steady in the shallows. He waited as Katara embraced Yue once again, then she nodded formally to Arnook. Her smile made Zuko's stomach twist as she made her way to the canoe; they guided it into the shallows and stepped into the vessel. Anyu pushed them into the bay as Zuko took up his paddle; behind him, he heard Katara do the same. The canoe rocked as they pulled their paddles through the water, back towards Looks-To-The-East village.

They rain fell slowly and gently as they made a steady rhythm, dipping paddles into the water as the canoe glided smoothly through it. Zuko heard the distant _whoosh_ of whales blowing once, saw seals break the surface to watch the canoe's passage several times. The gray of the sky and green of the trees met in the sea, so still it looked like rippled glass as rain pattered the surface and Zuko tried to keep his mind from the woman sitting so close behind him.

They spoke little as the day wore on, Katara occasionally calling for him to change the side he paddled to keep their course along the shore. She also pointed at rock cairns piled onto spits and beaches, sentinels that marked the way to the villages and camps that lay in the great archipelago around them. Zuko tried to think of the charts he'd drawn, of the Fire Nation's great beacons, lighthouses and lightships that marked harbors and channels, but found his mind pulled over and over again to _her_.

_You're not sixteen any more_, he told himself, trying not to squirm at memories of teenage awkwardness. _Just wait_. The thought of her so near drove him to distraction, though, and finally he forced himself to concentrate only on his paddle, digging deep through the gray-green water.

Afternoon finally deepened to evening as the tide lay low on the shore and Katara guided the canoe towards a narrow beach, a forested hill rising sharply above its sweep. They made a small camp there, pulled the canoe above the tide line, stretched a tarp between two trees and unpacked their bedrolls into it, rolled the canoe over against the rain.

"I'll make a fire," Zuko muttered and heard Katara move across the beach behind him; he turned, intending to gather driftwood, and froze when he nearly walked into her. He looked up and their eyes were at almost the same level, Katara's brilliant blue and something simmering in their depths as they stared at each other in the fading light.

Zuko never knew who moved first, if Katara had threaded her fingers through his hair before he cradled her face in his hands or after. At the time, he only knew that he _wanted_ her, wanted to take her and give himself to her. "_Katara_," he started before their lips met, but she smiled and leaned towards him and was everything he had imagined, warm and soft and insistent.

She pushed the blanket off his shoulders to run her hands down his back and he shivered, pulled her against him and kissed her neck, her collarbones, the smooth skin on her chest. Her own blanket fell to the rocky beach as he maneuvered her backwards, towards their shelter, and they tumbled onto the blankets. "_Now_," she whispered, her breath catching. "Now, now, _now_…" They gasped together, then, and moved into each other, and the world fell away.

"_Slower_," he panted, _begged_, "Slow _down_," but she kept on, moving over him and around him and Zuko grit his teeth as pleasure washed over him; he was so _close_ and he wanted it to last forever. He shuddered and tensed and pulled her into him and rolled them both over. Her eyes held surprise as she rose against him, but he took her hands and braced himself on his elbows and set a new rhythm, moving slowly until they both shuddered and cried out, voices ragged.

Awareness returned slowly, the distant sounds of waves and rain, as Zuko dropped his forehead against her shoulder, kissed damp skin. Katara trembled, breathing heavily as she slid her hand along his neck, and he shifted his weight, half-turning and pulling her into him.

Darkness fell as she settled the blankets around them both, then traced the planes of his face softly, her fingers trailing over the scar. Zuko lay his hand over hers to still the motion, brought it to his mouth to kiss each knuckle, then trapped it against his chest. She sighed and molded herself closer against him and when she spoke her voice was warm, colored with emotion he had never heard. "What's your name? _Your_ name, not what the warriors named you."

The seasons flowed past in his memory; the gray of his first weeks enslaved to the tribe, spring's warmth and summer's deep blues and greens; her eyes angry and puzzled and grudgingly pleased, sorrowful and hopeful and moments ago smoky with desire. "Zuko," he whispered.

She raised her head to look at him. "What?"

"Zuko," he repeated, and she watched his lips.

"Thuuu-ko," she said carefully, as if trying out the sounds.

"_Zu_," he said, exaggerating the sound; he flattened his tongue against his teeth and saw her nod.

"_Thu_ko," she said again, and he smiled.

"Close enough."

* * *

Zuko woke to warmth, Katara close against his back and her breath soft on his neck, her arm draped over his waist. Rain fell soft and steady beyond the tarp as he stretched and Katara followed the motion; he folded his arms and watched the rain and the sea beyond, content. _Some moments are to be savored without thought of the future_, he remembered his uncle saying long ago, and Zuko allowed himself to push aside lingering apprehension in favor of _this_ moment.

Katara finally stirred, stretched beside him; she tightened her arm around his chest and sighed against his shoulder. He smiled and turned over to face her and she returned the smile as he reached to stroke the hair from her face. She sighed and closed her eyes and lay her head on his arm and Zuko watched her for a long time, stroking her cheek gently.

"What are you thinking?" he finally whispered.

She opened her eyes to smile, then frown, but he saw humor in the expression. "I am torn, Thuko," she said slowly, moving closer. "I want to swim with you, but I also want to stay right here." She quirked her brow. "Perhaps you can help me decide."

Zuko propped himself up on one elbow. "Perhaps I can."

* * *

They did swim, later, then foraged in the shallows, offering each other choice bits of shellfish. Zuko started dutifully towards the canoe after they dried themselves, but Katara took his hand. "We do not need to leave quite yet," she said with a smile that was almost _coy_ and Zuko tried to frown.

"Tahnra and Akiak –" he began, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips.

"A day spent for each other will be of no consequence," she said with a smirk. "They don't worry."

Zuko almost wanted to protest, to ask her how she could be so _sure_, but instead he allowed her to lead him back to their shelter, draw the blankets around them both and rest her head on his chest. He sighed deeply as she lay her hand on his neck and he rested his fingers on the curve of her hip, and he tried to let the anxiety ebb away like the tide.

"What color are your eyes?" Katara asked after a time.

The question surprised Zuko. "Yellow?" He glanced down at her and frowned but she stayed silent and he let his head fall back against the blankets. "My mother always said they were gold, but that's the kind of thing that mothers say."

"_Gold_," she repeated, trailing her fingers along the line of his jaw. "I've never seen anything like them."

He shrugged. "I've never seen eyes as blue as the Water Tribe's before."

"Your land has no people of water?"

Zuko laughed, at that, though her tone held faint apprehension. "_My_ land is of fire. But I've heard of waterbenders who live in the fens of the Northern Earth Kingdom, and in the tundras to the east. And there are many tribes in the great lands that stretch to the west, beyond the Air territories. Perhaps some of them are of water." He raised his hand to thread his fingers through her hair, stroke his thumb over her temple, and never in his years away had the Fire Nation seemed so distant.

"Will you go back?" she whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear, and he tightened his arm around her shoulders.

"I don't know," he finally answered, and felt her nod.

They spoke little after that, letting touch instead express feelings still warm and precious to Zuko. Her skin against his, her breath soft on his chest as she dozed, allowed him to set aside the worry again and simply enjoy the moment.

* * *

The lingering awkwardness faded the next morning as they faced each other on the beach, their sparring familiar and reassuring as they smirked and taunted, moved together over the rocks and through the shallows. Zuko finally won the match, pulling Katara into his arms and kissing her. "We should pack the canoe," he whispered against her skin, though he remained reluctant to leave this place that brought them together.

He felt Katara's smile as her breath hitched. "We have until the tide changes."

Zuko allowed himself to smirk. "We should make the most of that time, then."

They moved together in a different way soon, blankets bunching around them and beneath them, and afterward again lay tangled together as their breathing slowed. "When did you know?" Zuko asked.

"Hmm?"

"When did you know… that you had – that you felt like _this_ –" He gestured helplessly, unsure of how to say it.

Katara raised her head and quirked her brow. "When did I know I loved you?"

Zuko nodded as warmth spread in his belly.

"The day you asked me to cut your hair. You just… _asked_, like I was your wife or your lover. I know you didn't mean it that way, but… I watched you swim, after, and realized that I didn't mind." She smiled softly. "Then on the solstice. The longest night. You asked me to share your ritual. You watched the flame, but I watched _you_." She blushed, then, and dropped her eyes. "I liked what I saw, and what I could imagine." She laced their fingers together on his chest. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"You. When did you realize that you… wanted me?"

Zuko heard the anxiety in her voice, smoothed his other hand through her hair and felt her sigh. "I don't know. I mean, I knew when you came back from moon time that I loved you. And when I woke on the ship, on the _Nu Shi Lian…_ you weren't supposed to _be_ there and I was _so_… " He forced himself to relax. "_Then_, maybe… but I don't know when it started." She nodded against his chest and they lay silent for a time.

"What…" he started, and Katara lifted her head, quirked her brow. "What _is_ moon time? Why – what do you _do_ when you leave?" He flushed then, but continued. "I mean – I know a woman has… _cycles_, but…"

"_Thuko_," Katara interrupted with a smirk. "That is not for you to know. Now…" She tipped her head as if listening. "The tide changes soon."

* * *

They camped that night on a broad bluff, a large cairn marking its tip. Katara fished in the shallows as Zuko built a fire; they wrapped the catch in seaweed and roasted it in the coals while they stretched their tarp between two trees and gathered branches and unrolled their blankets. They ate quietly, side by side and thighs touching, sitting on a log that Katara bent free of rainwater as they watched the fire spit and hiss and finally die into coals.

Katara finally rose and stretched and smiled softly at him; Zuko banked the fire and followed her to their shelter to lay with her as twilight deepened into darkness. "Tell me about your husband," he said after a time, stroking her shoulders gently, and felt her sigh.

"What do you want to know?"

He considered for a long moment before realizing that the choice was hers. "Anything you'll share."

She didn't speak for a long time and Zuko listened to the rain drip from the trees; beyond it, the sea lapped quietly at the beach. "Hahn was an idiot," she finally said. "I didn't want to marry him, but his father saved Sokka and I couldn't refuse."

"Not at all?"

"Not if I wanted to keep my honor. And my family's honor. My clan's honor." She moved deeper into his embrace, sliding her leg beneath the crook of his knee. "Refusing would have meant that I didn't value Sokka's life – that my family didn't value it." She sighed again. "It wasn't bad. His family respected me, and he was bearable." She paused for a moment and Zuko felt her smile. "And he gave me Tahnra and Akiak."

Zuko kissed her hair gently. "That's something."

"I sometimes think it was the only worthwhile thing he ever did," she said softly. "I tried to make a life with him, in Mist-Hides-The-Shore House. His mother and his sisters were decent." She fell silent for a long moment, as if remembering. "Then he tried to raise his hand against me."

Anger knotted Zuko's gut, but he forced himself to let it go. "He struck you?"

"He _tried_ to. I blocked it, and dislocated his shoulder." Her tone held dismissal. "But he _tried_ to strike me in anger, and by doing so, he insulted me and my family and dishonored himself. His sisters were appalled. They begged me to forgive him, even as they knew it was unforgivable."

"So you came back to your village?"

"Yes. It was my right, and he had to come along. He _hated_ it. Everyone knew of his disgrace. Sokka gave him the worst duties he could think of." She fell silent and Zuko tried not to hold his breath, tried not to let anxiety rise in him at what he knew she would ask. "How…" she finally started. "How did he die?"

Zuko drew in a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly, while Katara drew soft circles on his chest. "We – my ship's crew and I – were trying to survey – trying to start making a chart, and we were talking with a group of people, on the beach. Trying to trade with them like Toph – except I think she's better at it than I am – in exchange for crossing their land, and Sokka's… _war party_ attacked." He paused, almost laughed. "I don't even know what they were _doing_ there, now that I know Sokka, but at the time I thought they were going to kill us all. I told my crew to get back in the boat – a long boat, not a canoe – and I'd cover their flank while they got back to the _Hu Yon Qi_ – the ship. My ship. They… didn't want to leave me behind." He remembered screaming at them to _go_, watching blue-painted warriors swarm the beach, tried to reconcile the memory with Sokka's cheerful grin. "Your brother seemed more concerned with the people we were talking with, another tribe, I guess. Then… Hahn… came at me. He had a knife – a spear, too, I think. He startled me – I was trying to hold several men off, and he slipped in through my blind spot."

Zuko raised his hand, gestured absently at his left side. "I can see through this eye, but… the range is limited… He knocked my swords out of my hands, and cut my arm really badly." He smiled sheepishly then. "Well, you saw it." Katara nodded against his chest and he drew a deep breath to continue. "I… don't really remember what happened next, except that I knew that I was going to die if I didn't fight back. I think…" He paused, fearing her reaction. "I think I… grabbed him, and ducked, and…" Zuko swallowed, tried to speak past the tightness in his throat, the memory of cold water and angry blue eyes dimming in death. "He hardly struggled."

He waited, holding his breath, but Katara said nothing, didn't move, didn't react at all. _Please_, he thought desperately, trying to quell the anxiety that grew with each passing moment.

"I'd only killed a man once before," he finally blurted. "It's not something I do lightly, and I didn't –"

"Shhh," Katara finally said, reaching up to smooth his hair. Her eyes were sad but not angry and Zuko held his breath again for her next words. "I know," she whispered, and he nodded stupidly. "I _knew_ Hahn, and… well… I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but…"

Zuko almost laughed in relief, pulled her closer to him. "Aang said something like that, too," he murmured into her shoulder, and felt Katara's smile.

"Aang is very wise."

"He loves you, you know." The words escaped Zuko's mouth before he could hold them back, but Katara just sighed.

"I know," she said softly, her breath warm against his neck. "I thought, once, a long time ago, that maybe I loved him." Her voice held quiet sadness. "But… it was not to be. And now…"

"And now?" Zuko prompted when she didn't continue, wanting desperately to know her answer.

She shifted, rolling atop him to rest her hands on his chest and look at him, a hopeful smile in her eyes. "Now I have you."


	31. Deceived

**Deceived **

_posted April 30, 2010_

* * *

The voyage passed pleasantly as they fell into a rhythm of paddling with the ebbing tide, resting with the flood. The slow steady rain finally let up, but the blustery wind that replaced it threw white caps up in the channel and they paddled close to the shoreline. The clouds broke late in the day, revealing and concealing patches of blue sky, but the glimpses of sun warmed Zuko as they set up their shelter on a rugged spit. Hot springs steamed on its beach, collecting in a rocky basin before draining away into the sea.

"This is a well-known camp," Katara explained as they upended the canoe. "The hot spring is among the best in our lands, but no one would dare build a village here."

Zuko agreed as he paced the length of the narrow beach to collect driftwood. He returned to their shelter as Katara coaxed two sleek fish ashore with a tendril of water. She cleaned them as he built a fire and she leaned against him as they roasted.

The sky cleared with twilight and the stars shone overhead as they slipped into the springs. Katara paused at the edge, adjusting to the temperature bit by bit, while Zuko smirked. "Can't take the heat?"

She scowled and flicked her fingers, but Zuko steamed away the water before it could splash him. He lay back, savoring the heat as she eased in up to her waist, admiring the way the starlight silhouetted her against the sea. The Great Dragon That Circles The Sky lay low on the horizon, its shape familiar despite all else that had changed. On a whim, Zuko lifted his hand. "What do you call that constellation – the chain of stars, there?"

Katara turned, the water sloshing gently with her movement. "The Endless Sea," she replied. "It's where warriors start out on the Long Hunt." She slipped the rest of the way into the water and Zuko opened his arms; she slid into them and he pulled her close.

"We call it the Great Dragon. The sages say that it circles the world, brings night into day." He shrugged, embarrassed. "It's a children's tale, really."

"What's it like?"

"What is what like?"

"Your land. Where you come from, across the ocean. Your… home."

Zuko thought about how to describe it, then, how to even start. Then he laughed. "We, too, are a people of islands – but our islands are very different. The beaches – there are no stones, only sand, fine sand." For an instant, it seemed close enough to touch, and he could almost smell the breeze, salt and sulfur and the tang of endless mangrove swamps. "The mountains are different, too – volcanoes that have spit fire since before I was born. There are places where molten rock slides into the sea, making new land as fast as it is swallowed."

_Homesick, Zuko?_ but he discarded the thought. Too many years had passed since he considered the Fire Nation _home_. He stroked Katara's thigh, the curve of her hip, felt her sigh against him.

"What are you thinking?"

"Mmm. Just… It just seems very far away."

Katara reply was soft, the nuance different despite familiar words. "Will you go back?"

"I… I don't know. When… when you – the red paint, here." He traced a line down her arm, the same path as she had drawn on his, that night he had become a _guest_ of the Water Tribe, rather than a slave. "I thought about what I would do. I think – I knew, then, that I could leave, that I was free to do what I wanted, but… This is a _huge_ land. Where would I go? So I decided that I would wait, and see what I should do when Toph came next."

Too late, Zuko remembered his whispered promise, made in a language he'd barely understood, but Katara nodded again, shifted against his chest and thighs and lay her forehead on his neck. Her fingers moved over his arm, tracing patterns in the water beaded there, and at length Zuko sighed. "I still don't know what I'll do."

Katara lifted her head then, her expression veiled in the dark, but her kiss eased away some of the doubt. "Then we shall enjoy this time we have together."

* * *

They stood on the beach the next morning, drying from their swimming and sparring. The morning lay still and chilly but without rain and Katara nodded as she studied the horizon. "Three, four more days, I think, if the weather holds."

Apprehension surged in Zuko's throat, a feeling he'd tried to ignore. "What…" he started. "What will happen when we return to the village?" He gestured between them. "In my land, we would – the sages would want us _married_, but I don't…" he trailed off as her expression closed.

"About that," Katara started. She met his gaze steadily but his skin felt suddenly too tight. "I need to tell you something."

Zuko nodded, mouth dry. _Please tell me this wasn't just a fling_…

"You have to promise not to be mad."

He swallowed, forced his throat to open enough to speak. "I can't promise that until I've heard what you have to say."

"Well…"

"I'll try not to be mad." _Sure Zuko. Act like it was nothing and it'll be okay_. _Because that's worked _so_ well in the past._

She nodded, and smiled, and leaned in close so that he could smell the sea drying on her skin. "We're already married_._"

"_What_?" Zuko stared at her, narrowed his eyes, surprise and anger burning away the apprehension. "_When_? Because if it was when – when I first _came here_ –" he choked on the words, but she cut him off.

"When we were at Moon Rising Village," she said, reassurance in her tone and expression. "The um… the very special blessing?" She looked away, a blush rising to her cheeks. "That was… sort of… a binding ceremony."

Zuko stared at her. _She meant it_. "Wait – that was a _marriage_?"

She flushed a deeper red. "Of sorts." She looked up at him, apprehension in her eyes. "It was a – it's called a bond of succession. It's usually for children of powerful houses who must produce an heir for the clan. It… It's dissolved at the end of one year if… no _heir_ has been… conceived."

"You tricked me into _marrying_ you?"

Her eyes widened and Zuko wondered what she read in his expression as she stammered further. "It's not a _real_ marriage! I mean, it _is_ a real marriage, but – Thuko, I couldn't be sure of how you _felt_ until –"

Her sincerity and distress melted the anger away and Zuko sighed and stepped forward to pull her into his arms. She shook slightly as she rested her cheek against his chest. "Who else knows?"

"Only Yue. She and I talked for a long time – she is One-Who-Remembers and she holds our traditions – she said the spirits might find it dishonorable if… if I lay with you without their blessing. And... worse than the spirits, my father, and Sokka – and _Gran-Gran_…"

Zuko frowned, thought of Kana's stern approval, Hakoda's favor, Sokka's friendship. "I didn't think it was that big a deal."

Katara pulled away. "Oh – _thanks_."

"Not like that! I just thought it wouldn't be a big deal to _them_. I thought… Toph said a long time ago that they treated me like your husband, so I thought…"

"They do, in some ways." She nodded, relaxing. "They have for a long time. I _hated_ it at first, then I realized I didn't mind, quite so much. But this is different. This is about my honor. And yours. And…" She blushed again, furiously this time. "And… that of any… children we have." Her words stirred up apprehension again, but he forced it down as she continued.

"I'm sorry for not telling you. I wanted you _so_ much, but I had to be sure that you wanted _me_, and… if you _hadn't_, well, the year _would_ have lapsed without a child between us, and…"

Zuko listened to the waves, the soft tumble of water against rock. He felt her little glances, her nervousness, and finally he sighed. "Just… tell me next time."

"Next time we get married?"

"_No_ – next time you make a big decision like that. I'd rather like to _know_ that I'm getting married. It might not be a big deal _here_, but where I come from –"

"Oh, it's a big deal here. If – if you… accept the commitment, there'll be more ceremonies. Big ones. Just, this way, well…" She quirked her brow suggestively and leaned into him. "You won't have to sleep with the bachelor warriors when we return to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House."

"Oh."

She nodded, a smile teasing at her lips.

"I guess that was a good reason." Zuko watched her expression, her posture; she relaxed after a moment and he lunged, grabbed her around the waist and slung her over his shoulder as she shrieked. "I'd have liked to have known that it was my _wedding night_," he said over her laughter, and carried her to their shelter.

* * *

They paddled late that day, the tides shifting with the passing moon, and new doubt gnawed at Zuko as light rain again fell around them. When the canoe lay high on the beach and they curled together in their shelter, Zuko forced himself to speak. "Tahnra and Akiak," he said, as the forest dripped behind them. "What will they think? I –"

Katara silenced him with a finger to his lips. "They already think of you as a father."

"How can they? I _killed_ their father…" He tried to continue, but couldn't speak past the admission, that horrible truth he'd tried to forget.

"Sokka told them, when he returned with you rather than Hahn, that their father had departed for the Long Hunt – but because he loved them, he sent a gift in his stead." She smiled, the expression bittersweet. "You."

"That… probably made you mad."

She quirked her brow. "Thuko… I tried to _kill_ you. You tell _me_ if I was angered."

He remembered then the fury on her face, her control over his blood, the way she trembled in his arms as fire flickered in his palm, and felt sudden guilt. "I'm sorry I frightened you." Her expression betrayed surprise as he continued. "I wouldn't have burned you – you know that, right?"

"When did you frighten me, Thuko?"

He frowned. "When… after I, a few weeks – when I tried to… _leave_ – just before you bent my blood, that first time." He swallowed, tried to loosen his throat. "I called fire, held it in front of you – _threatened_ you. I could feel you shaking. I'm sorry for frightening you."

"You didn't frighten me, Thuko – you _angered_ me. You threatened me, yes – and my children –" she placed her finger on his lips again to forestall his protest, his apology. "But I was _angered_, that you, a _slave_ – and worse, a _foreigner_, a man not of these lands – would dare stand against me, a master Waterbender of the Inland Tribes and a Mother of the Killer Whale Clan." She looked away, then.

"I was also… angered by your _presence_." She blushed, but continued. "I know you don't know our ways, but… men… are not usually given to women, like you were… _given_ to me. Sokka… Spirits, he's my _brother_, and I love him, but sometimes I just want to guthim with his own knife." She sighed. "I was angry, and embarrassed, and annoyed that Sokka thought it was some great joke, that you killed Hahn and so I should claim what was my right from _you_ in his place." She bent her head, but what Zuko could see of her face was flushed. "And so, when you threatened me, I reacted with more anger than perhaps you deserved."

At length, Zuko cleared his throat, tried to ease the ache. "Why… did you stop?"

She shrugged, shoulders moving against his chest. "Gran-Gran told me to. She said that it was no wonder you were trying to escape, considering how I'd treated you. I felt like I was four years old again, and being reprimanded for not stirring the stew pot and blaming someone else when it burned."

A thousand responses jumped to Zuko's mind, anger and relief and embarrassment and forgiveness and an odd sort of understanding, but his response surprised himself. "You'd… never met a firebender before, had you?"

She raised her head and frowned. "No. Why?"

Zuko shrugged, almost amused. "We _fight_. We fight, and we _never_ give up."

Understanding flickered across her face before she scowled. "Well, you clearly had never met a _waterbending_ master."

"What makes you say that?"

"You held my _shoulders_, Thuko. Perhaps that would have stopped a firebender, but a _waterbender_…" She smirked, then. "We don't need your fancy kicks and strikes to move _our_ element."

"Oh?" Zuko slid his hand along her thigh. "Perhaps a demonstration?"

* * *

They rose early the next morning to catch the tide's new pattern, the flood of currents towards Faces-To-The-East Village, and Zuko began to feel as if his emotions, too, were pulled by a distant force, the anxiety ebbing and flooding as they neared the village and, perhaps, a decision. The sun rose as they paddled, the water still and limned with mist. The air lay silent save for the ripple of paddles through the water, and Zuko's thoughts turned to another worry.

"I don't know if I can marry you," he whispered as they lay together that afternoon, their camp set up as the tide flooded back into the islands. He lay half on his side, his forehead against hers. "I don't know if I can stay – I don't know what I'll _do_, and I don't want to make a commitment that I can't keep." Speaking the words aloud was a relief but also a burden and he hid his face in the curve of her shoulder.

She stroked his arm soothingly, gentle fingers making him shiver. "It's okay," she whispered. "I know your path is still unchosen, and I won't bind you to my side." The sincerity in her voice helped him relax, slowly, as did her next words. "I love you, Thuko, and I think, if I'm lucky, that you might love me. I want to declare that to my people and to the spirits, even if your chosen path takes you from me."

He nodded against her shoulder and her fingers moved to his hair, combing lightly through it.

"I don't know what marriage is in your lands, but I have already done my duty for my clan and my house. Tahnra will be a brave mother and Akiak a wise leader. They are Water Tribe, and of the Killer Whale Clan, whether you take them as yours or not, and I am free to choose you as I was not when I had to accept Hahn."

"Your way of marriage… sounds different, than that of my land."

"Perhaps you have a lover there, which makes you reluctant?"

Zuko felt his face heat at the mischief in her voice. "_No_." She smiled and stroked his face and he sighed, tried to bury the memories. "Where I come from, it's… complicated. I…" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's just so _different_."

She said nothing to that, only moved closer and after a time, they slept.

* * *

They arrived at Looks-To-The-East Village late one afternoon and figures ashore stopped their activity to trace their progress towards the beach. For a moment, the only sounds were of paddles through the water, then Sokka's whoop cut the air. He splashed through the shallows to meet them, his grin huge. "I _knew_ you guys would be fine," he laughed, then hugged Katara – then released her to hug _Zuko_.

Sokka released him before Zuko could react, then thumped his back hard enough that Zuko staggered as the villagers trickled from houses and sheds to greet them with smiles and shouts and help carry the canoe up the beach. Another shriek cut the air and then Tahnra nearly knocked Katara over as Tua arrived, carrying Akiak. The boy's face lit up and he held out his arms for Zuko, whose gut twisted as he reached to take Katara's son. _My son_, he thought suddenly, then Sokka interrupted with another shout.

"You guys finally did it, didn't you! About damn _time_." He slung his arm around Zuko's shoulder and Zuko felt his face burn as Hakoda made his way down the beach to greet his daughter. Katara stood to embrace him, her hand still in Tahnra's, and Hakoda's face relaxed. He looked up to meet Zuko's eyes and nod and the weight of his approval nearly took Zuko's breath away.

Then Katara stood back and extended her hand and Zuko hitched Akiak up and joined her. He saw the question in her eyes and beside it hope and he nodded and took her hand. She turned to Hakoda, to Kana standing beside him, and drew in her breath to speak.

"Xtl'ikgut'tlak, whose own name is _Thuko_, and I, Katara of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House, have made a bond of succession, witnessed by Yue of Moon Rising Village."

The beach again lay silent for a moment, then Sokka yelled and Hakoda's smile widened as he slapped Zuko's back and hugged Katara again. Kana simply nodded but then Tahnra tugged on Zuko's hand and he forgot everything else as he crouched to face her.

Tahnra's eyes were wide as she placed her hands on his knee. "You're _really_ our father now?"

Zuko didn't know how to respond, hadn't allowed himself to _think_ that far; he half nodded and half shrugged, but then she smiled brilliantly and threw herself at him, knocking him off balance so that both she and Akiak landed on his chest. Akiak smiled shyly while Tahnra laughed and laughed and finally Zuko met Katara's smile and knew that, for now, he had chosen right.


	32. Shared

**Shared**

_posted August 15, 2010_

* * *

They feasted that night, a dinner of reunion and victory. "We'll have more food tomorrow," Sokka reassured them, but Zuko hardly cared as his lingering anxiety slipped away with every smile and laugh from Tahnra and Akiak.

The feasting passed smoothly into a song of welcome, then those gathered in Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House called for a telling of the weeks past. Zuko let Katara speak for them both, her voice cadenced but conversational, rising and falling as she told new stories that might become legend. She shared their tale of capture and escape, of Jin and Song and Gyucha the airbender who aided them. She told of Moon Rising Village and Arnook's great generosity, of Yue's blessing, but said very little of the canoe voyage back to Faces-To-The-East village.

Zuko watched her as she turned about the central platform, holding Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House in her story. Akiak was long asleep on his lap and Tahnra leaning against him as Katara finished, turned away from the house and back to him. Her face was radiant as she stepped to sit beside him and others rose to sing again in welcome. She leaned into him as she settled, her shoulder warm against his, and Zuko slipped his arm around her as they listened.

His anxiety returned, though, as the great house fell quiet and Katara bundled her children onto her sleeping platform. Zuko hung back for a moment but she turned and smiled as he ducked his head to hide his blush, then joined her on her sleeping platform. It was surprisingly private, stretching back against the wall, and Zuko felt himself relax again as Katara settled against him, Tahnra and Akiak curled beside her. He said nothing, only held her close and felt contentment in her even breaths, and let it lull him into sleep.

* * *

Katara met him in the sea the next morning, and Zuko felt the water move against his skin an instant before her fingers. He smirked and dipped back under the surface and knew she followed; she grabbed his ankle and he turned in the water to seize her, kick off the bottom and propel them both to the surface. They emerged with a splash, breathing heavily and laughing, and Zuko leaned his forehead against hers as the water buoyed them both. "Good morning," he whispered, and she smiled and kissed him in response.

They swam back to shore together and stood drying on the tideline, then Zuko moved before she could, lashing out with his leg so she had to leap to avoid the flames.

"Hey!" Her shout held outrage but Zuko grinned as he dodged the water she sent at him.

"Just because we're married doesn't mean I'll go _easy_ on you," he taunted, and ducked the next waves.

"I'll show you _easy_!"

Katara did win the match, eventually, knocking Zuko off balance and pushing him back into the sea. She reached down to help him up and for a moment Zuko debated pulling her down atop him, but instead he smiled and accepted the help. Neither let go and they walked hand in hand back to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House.

They returned to find preparations underway for a feast. Zuko was allowed to serve himself a hasty breakfast before Kana shooed him out, her gruffness belied by the quirk of her lips that he imagined as affectionate. He stood outside the great house to finish the meal, then set his bowl with others discarded by the entrance and turned to the canoe shed.

Orvik greeted him with a smile and a thump on the back. "Well met, Xtl'ikgut'tlak. I was glad to hear of your return. I had hoped that you would be here for the bending, but first we must shape the prow." He turned to the canoe, nearly hollowed but still ungainly and with a gaping hole in bow and stern where heartwood had been removed. Zuko nodded and took up his adze and under Orvik's guidance, helped smooth a long wooden wedge that would form the high prow.

* * *

Zuko returned again to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon house as the sun dipped towards the horizon; he stood just inside and watched for a long time before Akiak looked up and broke into a broad smile. Tahnra noticed him a moment later, then both children stood and ran for him. Akiak held up his arms and Zuko crouched to ruffle his hair, but Tahnra hung back, shyness on her face that Zuko had never seen before. He tried to smile and to his relief, she returned the smile, then giggled.

"What is it?" he asked.

She giggled again and stepped forward and stood on her toes and cupped her hands to whisper "Can I call you _Daddy_?"

Zuko froze; the lodge felt too small and too large he glanced up to find Katara watching him from the mouth opening, glanced down to find Tahnra looking up at him, hope in her eyes. He finally swallowed, cleared his throat, hoped his voice sounded normal. "Of course."

Her smile was brilliant in that instant before she threw herself at him and Zuko tentatively slipped his free arm around her, drawing both children close. Katara joined them a moment later, then picked up Akiak to balance him against one hip and hold her other hand out to Zuko. He slung Tahnra over his shoulder and took Katara's hand, and the simple joy in that moment carried him through the long evening of formal feasting and singing and dancing.

Guests from other houses sat among them that night, Auka and her husband and Takuak the hunter and others Zuko recognized from the village, invited to witness the welcome and the union, Katara explained as she persuaded Akiak to eat. Zuko nodded, feeling the anxiety rise in his throat again when Hakoda moved to speak.

Zuko barely heard the words, Hakoda's formal cadence of unions and blessings, until he nodded to Zuko. "Xtl'ikgut'tlak. _Thuko_. As you bring no clan before our house, will you speak instead?"

_Don't stammer, Zuko_. He forced himself to nod, to swallow the nervousness. "I will." Katara squeezed his hand, then released it as he stood, straightened his back and lifted his chin. He tried to remember the words he'd used when greeting Arnook, when he was a guest of Moon Rising House; tried to forget those first weeks and months as a _slave_ of this one. "Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House has been generous, and a gracious host. I am honored to be asked to join it."

The house lay silent in the wake of his words and Hakoda inclined his head. Zuko returned the nod and sat, careful not to betray his haste. Murmurs then rose around the house, but Zuko ignored them, as Sokka slapped Zuko's shoulder. "Fancy words, _Thuko_," he whispered, as Katara batted his hand away.

Zuko snorted, then leaned back as dancers stepped up. Katara settled beside him and he slipped his arm around her shoulder.

Later, she stood to dance, her movements graceful and sensuous in a way he'd never noticed before. Their eyes met as Katara turned; she quirked her brow and Zuko allowed himself to smirk. Akiak lay asleep in his lap, Tahnra clapping her hands beside him, and he wondered what would happen when the dances ended and the singers fell quiet.

That time finally came, the guests gathering their blankets around them and moving towards the mouth-opening. Katata stood across the house from him, but her smirk returned and she shifted her stance to display the smooth curve of her thigh. Zuko quirked his brow and dipped his chin at her children, asleep on his lap; her smirk deepened as she stepped across the house and nudged Tahnra and scooped up Akiak and bundled them into Hakoda's sleeping platform over sleepy protests. Soon, she joined Zuko in _theirs_ and as they moved together, silent and shuddering, Zuko let his anxiety slip away and lived simply in that moment, with her.

* * *

He woke the next morning with Katara in his arms and Tahnra and Akiak curled beside them and blankets over them all, the night's peace lingering as dawn crept through the overhead smoke-hole. The coming spring, the _Good Earth_'s return, the decisions he knew he would have to make – all seemed too distant to think of as Zuko listened to their soft breathing.

Weak sunlight filtered into the great house before Katara stirred, and Zuko kissed her bare shoulder.

"You're still here," she murmured, and he tightened his arm around her.

* * *

After they returned from sparring and swimming together, and after breaking their fast with clams on the beach and stewed salmon in the great house, Kana summoned Zuko before her. She sat before her sleeping platform, a loom set up behind her and a critical frown on her face.

"Xtl'ikgut'tlak," she said, her voice a powerful creak. "_Thuko_. Are you, indeed, sincere in your wish to marry Katara. My granddaughter." Her tone made it not a question, but Zuko shrugged and tried to hide his surprise.

"I am."

"And you will walk the circle with her?"

Zuko kept his face impassive. "I will… honor your ceremonies."

Kana considered him, the weight of her gaze almost tangible, now both severe and sad. "I imagine you will, Thuko." She sighed. "The bond of succession is practiced by the coastal villages – and you are certainly not the child of a prestigious house."

Zuko raised his brow and bit back his response; instead he shrugged, and waited.

Long moments passed before Kana sighed again. "I will speak with the Mothers, and the One-Who-Remembers." She raised her hand in dismissal. "You may go."

* * *

He met Katara on the beach as dusk fell and they walked back to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House together. Her smile soothed Zuko's doubts again, and he smirked. "You really did trick me into marrying you, didn't you."

"Are you complaining?"

"No." He paused to lean down and kiss her. "But your Gran was."

Katara snorted. "She would have been more irritated if I'd simply had my way with you."

Zuko grinned.

* * *

Kana summoned him again the next evening, two other elder Mothers beside her and Katara sitting before her, cheeks flushed and brows drawn together.

"The Mothers have conferred and decided," Kana began before Zuko could ask Katara what was wrong. "We will honor the binding of Katara of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House and Xtl'ikgut'tlak from across the ocean, but –" she paused to glare meaningfully at Katara, who dropped her head and flushed. "It must be performed and witnessed according to the ceremonies of the _Inland_ Water Tribe."

Kana turned her glare to Zuko then, and he met it without flinching. He thought of Katara's soft smiles and the way she curled against him in sleep; he thought of Tahnra and Akiak, the joy on their faces, and he nodded slowly. Beside him, Katara ducked her head in acknowledgement.

Kana sniffed. "We will speak more of this tomorrow. Go."

Zuko waited until Tahnra and Akiak were asleep and the great house quiet before he ventured to ask Katara about the exchange. "Before – when we talked with your gran – what was wrong?"

Katara sighed, rolled over to face him, though she didn't meet his eyes. "The marriage ceremonies…"

"What about them?"

"The first time, when _Hahn_ – Thuko, the fasting and the wedding and the li wuk and everything else lasted more than a month. The Killer Whale clan spent two seasons preparing for it, for the union of the two clans and to witness the payment of our debt to Bear Clan. Hahn's mother's house is one of Bear clan's most prestigious, and many houses from across our lands were called on to witness it." She sighed, and Zuko moved his hand to stroke her hair. "It meant nothing to me. It wasn't even _about_ me. I'd met Hahn _once_, and hadn't cared for him."

She sighed again and moved closer into his arms. "I just… had hoped to avoid that. This time."

Zuko let the silence stretch as he threaded his fingers through her hair. "A little late for that, don't you – _ow!_" He grabbed her wrist before she could swat him again and they struggled for a few moments until she laughed breathlessly and relaxed atop him.

* * *

Zuko swam and ate the next morning with the family – _his family_ – before Kana called him to her. "We go, now, to Old Man Raven House."

Katara nodded and stepped forward beside him, but Kana held up her hand. "Not you, granddaughter. The One-Who-Remembers wishes to speak with your _Thuko_ alone." Katara set her mouth in annoyance, but dipped her head in respect as Kana turned away. Katara glanced at Zuko and he saw concern in her eyes, but other emotions, too, and he suddenly realized how little he knew about her, this woman who now slept in his arms. He resolved to change that, as he followed Kana along the beach.

Old Man Raven House sat at the end of the bay, its painted patterns subtly different than those of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House. Zuko tried to pick out the designs – faces and eyes and fins or feathers in the swirling, concentric patterns – and suddenly remembered Aang emerging from it months ago, a troubled look on his face. They reached the mouth opening, then, and Zuko ducked to enter the house.

The house lay quiet inside, its occupants busy with the day's chores, and Zuko paused to let his eyes adjust to the dark interior. Before him, Kana spoke. "Tuwalek, One-Who-Remembers, I bring Xtl'ikgut'tlak, from across the ocean."

"He may approach." The voice was quiet, deep and resonant and hoarse. Kana gestured and Zuko stepped towards it, towards a man sitting on the raised platform across the house; an older man, lean and ascetic, shells and beads woven into his hair and laying about his neck. Zuko vaguely recognized him from Hakoda's Li Wuk, entering the great house with other guests.

He eyed Zuko, his eyes sharp in a face lined with age, and Zuko drew himself up, held himself straight as he had been taught from childhood, and returned the look. Tuwalek finally nodded once, sharply, and gestured at Zuko to sit. Zuko held his posture a moment longer, then sat.

"So you seek allegiance with the Killer Whale Clan, through Katara of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House."

Zuko frowned.

Tuwalek mirrored the expression. "Well?"

"Honored Elder –" Zuko began.

"Honored _One_," Tuwalek corrected.

"Honored One," Zuko repeated. "I wish to… have the village bear witness to my union to Katara. Yue of Moon Rising Village –"

Tuwalek snorted. "Yue is a child, chosen too soon for a burden she doesn't understand." He leaned forward, hands on his knees. "The bond of succession is a ritual of the coastal villages – scarcely used and almost barbaric. I'm surprised that Yue thought the spirits would be pleased by it, but what's done is done. Now." He raised one hand to point at Zuko. "You, _Xtl'ikgut'tlak_, wish to marry Katara of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House, a Mother of the Killer Whale Clan. What have you to offer for such an alliance?"

Zuko realized, suddenly, that he had no answer. _What _do_ I have to offer?_ he asked himself as Tuwalek glared.

"What have you to _offer_, Xtl'ikgut'tlak?"

"I can offer only myself. Honored One."

"Yourself." Tuwalek's voice held sarcasm. "And what clan are you of, to offer yourself from?"

Zuko looked away, remembering the tangled webs of Fire Nation nobility and lineage, new-money merchants and ancestral land-owners. "I… We don't really have _clans_, where I come from. In my land."

"No clans?" Tuwalek's voice now was now mocking, and Zuko grit his teeth. "Well, which _side_ are you of? Are you Raven or are you Wolf? Or –" Disdain crept into his tone. "– _Eagle_?"

"I… don't know."

Tuwalek stared at him, head tipped back and a sneer on his lips. "You expect to form an alliance with Killer Whale Clan, one of the oldest and most prestigious clans of the inland villages, and you don't even know what _side_ you are of?"

Helpless rage grew, burning in Zuko's throat; he held Tuwalek's gaze as he searched for a response, when Kana's voice cut the tension. "Xtl'ikgut'tlak. _Thuko_. Does your family have a crest to call its own?"

"A crest?" Zuko frowned, thinking of the Company banners, a black phoenix on a gold field. The memory made him uneasy and he remembered the imperial sigil then, gold dragons on a deep red field. He almost laughed, then. _I suppose I am entitled to use that._ "Dragon, I suppose – as you have called me." He raised his head to meet her eyes again. "But it's not the same."

Tuwalek sniffed disdainfully, but Kana nodded. "You have given us much to talk of, Xtl'ikgut'tlak." She waved her hand. "You may go."

* * *

"What did they say?"

Katara was in his arms before Zuko could answer; he pulled her against him, nestled his face against her neck and breathed her in. "I… don't think he likes me."

Katara snorted. "His father was of Bear Clan."

"What does that matter?"

She leaned back to arch her brow at him. "_Hahn_ was of Bear Clan. He – Tuwalek… the _debt_ –"

"So, how'd your talk with His Ancient Spookiness go?" Sokka clapped Zuko's shoulder as he settled down with a bowl, Tahnra beside him. Katara turned away to help Akiak with his own bowl, but Zuko saw the tension in her shoulders, and thought again of how little he knew her.

"… Fine."

Later, after Tahnra and Akiak were asleep and the blankets pulled snugly around them all, Zuko tried again. "Katara," he whispered, and felt her shift. "They asked me which side I'm of – what does that mean?"

She didn't answer for a long moment, as if considering her words. "Among our people, there are Wolf clans and there are Raven clans. My family is of the Killer Whale clan, which is a Wolf clan. So is Sea Urchin House. Shark-Swims-The-Deep House is of Heron clan and Sifts-The-Shallows House is of Otter clan – they're both Raven clans."

This left Zuko none the wiser. "The One-Who-Remembers – Tuwalek – he and your Gran, and the other elders, kept asking if I were Wolf or Raven. What does it matter?"

"_Oh_. Among our people, one of a Wolf clan may only marry one of a Raven clan. They were making sure that you were not of a Wolf clan. But your people don't have clans as we do, do they."

Her tone made it a statement, but Zuko shook his head anyway. "Will that be a problem?

She laughed softly and stretched to kiss him. "_I_ don't care that you're not Wolf and not Raven – and I'm certainly glad you're not Wolf." He felt her smile, then, as she stroked her fingers along his chest. "Gran's beloved, when she was young, was Raven, but Gran is Raven too and they couldn't be married. Her house betrothed her to another man, an Eagle – Gran came from the coastal people, across the Great Sea, and they don't have Wolves – and she left rather than be married to him." Zuko felt her move to touch the necklace at her throat. "Gran took her brother's canoe and left in the middle of the night, and eventually came here. She says she had sworn to never love another man save the one she left behind, but she met my grandfather and I suppose she changed her mind."

Zuko spoke before he thought better of it. "Why didn't _you_ leave, then, when you were betrothed to Hahn?"

She tensed against him, but her voice stayed level. "I couldn't abandon my family, Thuko – and I wasn't _betrothed_ to Hahn. Besides. I'd already taken my journey to Gran's old village."

Zuko stroked her hair in apology. "Tell me about it."

He heard the smile in her voice. "I was still only a girl, even though I thought myself grown. I took my mother's brother's wife's canoe, for she departed for the Long Hunt before I was born, and I had a dream of the whales. The whales painted on the prow – they were her family's crest, as well as our clan's crest. Do your people have crests?"

"Yes – but… not like yours. I mean, we have _symbols_, for our families, for our countries, for our companies, but – I think it's different."

"Oh? What is your family's crest?"

He hesitated. "Dragon."

"Really?" She raised her head to smirk at him. "Don't tell Sokka that – we'll never hear the end of it."

Zuko scowled. "Your journey?"

"What? Oh. Yes. I dreamt of the whales, soon after I became a woman, and I took my mother's brother's wife's canoe." She lapsed into silence and Zuko stroked her hair. "What I saw, Thuko – I don't know how it is, in your land, but here, to speak of things seen on a _journey_ –"

"Just tell me what you want to."

She nodded against his chest. "They… _guided_ me, and I felt how they moved through the water, and I tried to move it the same way, except as a _bender_ moves water, but… Well, they guided me across the Great Sea, and when I reached land again, it was Gran's old village. My almost-grandfather was there – he was a waterbender, and he taught me…" He heard hesitance in her voice again, then she laughed. "Oh _spirits_, Thuko, I was so proud of myself, for making the voyage, and the first thing he said to me was that if I was done splashing around and ready to _truly_ bend water, then perhaps I should come ashore. I was so embarrassed – and I barely understood his speech, since the coastal villages have their own words and – what? What's so funny?"

Her voice held mock outrage now, and Zuko pulled her closer. "I spent _years_ learning to bend fire from the best masters in my land – then learned more in one afternoon by being forced to study a hot cup of tea than I had in all that time."

He saw her brows raise in the faint light, then heard her soft laugh. "Oh, Thuko." She dropped her forehead on his chest. "I hate to think what my own students will say, when they are our age." He smiled with her and tightened his arm about her shoulders, and soon sleep claimed them both.


	33. Decided

**Decided**

_posted September 15, 2010_

* * *

Tuwalek sat in the same position the next day when Zuko stepped into the gloom of Old Man Raven House. His expression betrayed irritation, but Zuko held himself still under the glare. Kana was absent and the Mothers of the other houses regarded him with level stares. Auka sat among their ranks, her face expressionless but her eyes glinting with interest.

Tuwalek finally shifted. "You say, Xtl'ikgut'tlak, that you are of the Dragon Clan, from across the ocean."

Zuko wanted to protest – it wasn't the _same_ – but forced himself to simply nod, tipping his head back and not breaking eye contact.

"Your _Dragon_ Clan is unknown to us, and yet you stand alone before us with neither Warriors nor Mothers to offer gifts of alliance. Your mother's brother does not speak for you and your father's clan does not stand ready to come to your aid."

Zuko grit his teeth against protest again. He didn't want to think of his family, his _father_, the Company and the Court and the whispered lies of his childhood.

"You wish to marry Katara of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House, but you would deny her the security of your own clan, as if you were an _exile_, supported by none! What would happen if you were to marry her, and perish early? You offer no clan to perform the burial rituals – her grief would drive her to madness without the support of her husband's clan."

"In my land –"

"And how you do you expect to make the union to begin with? What can you offer witnesses, to ensure they remember the promises you make to the spirits? You have no family, no property – nothing save the charity of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House – and now you offer them _alliance_? What _arrogance_!"

"Katara's children, she –"

"You are a _stranger_ here, Xtl'ikgut'tlak! Do not pretend to know our customs." Tuwalek glared, one hand shaking in rage. "And do not think that you can follow your _own_ ways, if you wish to form an alliance within Faces-To-The-East Village. Go." He waved his hand in dismissal. "Your presumption disgusts me."

* * *

That evening, Zuko felt the weight of Kana's stare across the Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House, and remembered the contempt in Tuwalek's voice. _What _can_ I offer Katara? _ To her family? To her _children_? Their nights together on the journey from Moon Rising Village seemed distant, naïve, whispering confessions of love if they were children.

_Can I provide for a family?_ Zuko knew how to do so in the Fire Nation – the titles, the investments, the land, the favor of nobles and merchants and lesser lords. Here, he could fish, he could gather, but he had few of the tools needed, fewer of the clan connections that had made the summer hunts successful. The fishing spear Sokka had given him lay below Katara's sleeping compartment now, but he had no nets or lines or canoe, no clan to call on for aid.

He lay awake late into the night, the peace of previous nights fled. Katara murmured in her sleep and he stroked her back, kissed her hair as she stirred. "You're awake?"

Zuko tightened his arm around her. "Yeah."

She moved closer and slung her arm over his waist. "What are you thinking?"

He debated how to answer, then blew out his breath in a sigh. "What the – what Tuwalek said."

"What did he say?"

"He said… that I have no clan." _Exile_.

"Is that true?"

"No. Yes. It's… it's different."

"You say that a lot."

He had no response, nothing but the conflict roiling in him.

"Thuko." Her voice held certainty. "You are worried. Talk with me."

Zuko sighed again and stroked her bare shoulders. "I just… I just wish I could give you what you're due. Every time I think I'm starting to understand, I learn of another custom, another step I've taken wrong. I –"

Katara cut him off with a laugh, and he frowned. She laughed again, touched his cheek, his lips. "Thuko. You are not of our people. Of course you don't know our customs." She smiled, stroked her hand along his face. "I have had a husband from our people, and found him lacking. I want _you_."

"Tuwalek –"

"Tuwalek is a bitter old man."

"But what if he doesn't allow it? What if he –"

"He is One-Who-Remembers, not a Mother to make decisions for the village. He is touched by the spirits, and responsible for making sure that we do not anger them." She lifted her chin to kiss him. "For all his bluster, Tuwalek does not have the power to deny this."

"But –"

Katara took his face in her hands. "I want _you_." She held his eyes, her own barely visible in the dark, but he saw her quiet certainty and nodded. She said nothing more and her breathing soon deepened with sleep, but Zuko lay awake for long after.

* * *

Zuko's anxiety swelled the next morning, when they returned from their swim to find Kana and the older Mothers absent from Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House. Katara smoothed his hair and stretched to kiss his cheek before shoving him gently out of the house, and he tried to think of that simple gesture as he bent over the canoe to carve.

"You have steady hands, Thuko, but you must allow the adze to work with you." Orvik's voice held quiet reprimand and Zuko swallowed his curse and tried to ignore the throb of pain. "Relax your grip."

Zuko nodded and shifted his fingers on the handle and continued his work. He felt relief, tempered with shame, when Orvik called a halt to the carving for a "demonstration."

"This is careful work," he explained, tapping a delicate curl of cedar away from the block. "The prow must be the right size, not too narrow and not too wide." Zuko nodded and watched and felt relief anew when Orvik glanced at the darkening sky and declared an early halt to the work. "A storm blows in," he said simply, and Zuko worked with him to secure planks and tarps around the canoe shed.

Orvik dismissed him with a concerned nod before he turned to walk down the beach. Zuko listened to his footsteps recede down the beach, then turned in the opposite direction and made his way to the rocky, wooded point that bounded Faces-The-East village. He tried to meditate there, sitting in a fall of fragrant brown needles sheltered by dense foliage, but finally gave up. He picked his way down to the far side of the point and found another broad sweep of stony beach, and bent fire until dusk fell and his arms ached with exhaustion.

Kana had returned to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House when Zuko stepped inside, and she gestured for him to sit before her. Zuko did so, too tired to protest, but too proud to let his shoulders slump with exhaustion.

Kana studied him for a long moment before speaking. "The One-Who-Remembers has retreated, to consult the spirits. We will know more when he returns."

_When will _that_ be?_ Zuko wanted to ask, but dipped his head in acknowledgement as Kana turned back to the loom set up behind her.

The storm arrived late that night, howling through the trees and beating the house with rain, and Zuko again lay awake, worrying and listening as Katara and her children slept beside him.

* * *

The beach was strewn with branches and sea wrack the next morning, the water still gray and choppy, but the winds had lightened and left the air almost warm in their wake. Katara met Zuko on the beach

as he emerged from the water, her smile warm and secretive, and they sparred in the last of the storm.

They fought to a draw, then stood side by side on the rocks, looking to the gray horizon. Sweat dampened Zuko's hair, tickling his ears and his neck, and he felt his face flush. "Will you…" he started, and Katara turned to him. "Will you cut my hair again, for me?"

She smiled, warmth in her expression, then arched her brow. "Perhaps you should pull it back, according to our custom."

Her voice held teasing, but Zuko scowled. "No."

She pouted, the expression like Tahnra for an instant. "I think you'd look good with a wolf-tail."

He felt it then, the memory of servants' fingers pulling his hair into a topknot, doing the task himself for long shipboard years. "No."

He saw mischief in her eyes as she stepped in close, reached for his temples, but he caught her wrists and held her still. "I said _no_."

Her eyes widened in surprise, but Zuko looked away. "Just… cut it. Please."

She nodded and stepped away to retrieve his razor, and Zuko felt her work, combing her fingers through his hair and slicing carefully. She waited on the beach when he returned from rinsing the cut hair away, and slipped her hand into his as they walked back to the lodge.

* * *

No word from Tuwalek arrived that morning, and Zuko spent another anxious day stripping bark from a new block of wood. Orvik said it was for the stern but Zuko suspected it was simply a task to keep him occupied, to keep him from damaging the unfinished prow. _Be grateful, Zuko_, he thought, _that you have a task to be occupied with_.

He lay tense that night on Katara's sleeping platform until she pulled his arm around her and stroked the back of his hand and said nothing, and he tried to take comfort in her strength.

* * *

Hakoda nodded to Zuko the next day. "Xtl'ikgut'tlak. _Thuko_. The storm tore a plank loose from the roof, and I require second set of hands to repair it. Will you lend me yours?" His tone made it not a question, and Zuko nodded. They spent the morning sorting through rough-split boards, stored against the side of the house that faced the forest. Some planks were silvered with weather, others golden and fragrant as if just cut. Hakoda examined each one in silence before selecting two of similar length and thickness.

Hakoda hoisted himself up onto the roof, then waited as Zuko handed the planks up one at a time. He gestured for Zuko to join him, and then for Zuko to hold them each plank in position as he fastened them to the exposed frames. He sat back on his heels after he finished, and nodded.

"Sometimes, a problem simply requires time, patience, and a willingness to work for the good of the village," he said mildly.

Zuko nodded and dropped his gaze, aware suddenly that Hakoda had stretched the simple task into hours of companionable work. _Thank you_, he wanted to say, but Hakoda had already risen to step towards the edge of the roof.

Zuko foraged in the shallows for his midday meal, staring through clear cold water at smooth rocks and coarse sand. The sea lay calm after the storm's fury, pearl grey under a cloudy sky and oddly soothing before he turned from the beach.

Tahnra and Akiak sat with several other children when Zuko stepped into Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House, Tua and another elder woman tending to them.

"Daddy!" Tahnra shrieked when she saw him, and Zuko smiled as she scrambled to her feet. Akiak followed as Tua grinned and tipped her head towards the house's mouth-opening. They spent the afternoon on the beach, watching the small creatures that lived in tide pools and examining the sea wrack thrown up by the storm. Tahnra proudly named each fish, crab, and leafy sea green, while Akiak sucked his finger and watched.

As the afternoon deepened, they turned from the beach towards the clearing behind the row of great houses to watch the last of Katara's waterbending lessons. She looked up as they finished the form and her face lit with a smile that took Zuko's breath away. He waited while she spoke to her students and dismissed them, then stepped forward to take Tahnra's hand and lean up to kiss him.

They all walked back to the house together, and Zuko tried to not fear losing this place he had found.

* * *

Sokka pulled Zuko away the next evening, his explanation of preparing a steam bath almost lost in Tahnra's protests as Katara smiled.

Zuko started to protest, too, but Sokka draped an arm over his shoulders to drag him towards the mouth-opening. "It's not healthy for a man to spend _too_ much time with women and children. Besides, you look like you need to relax." Zuko glanced back at Katara and her children – his _family_ – but she only smiled and tipped her head and mouthed _go_.

The other men greeted Zuko with smiles or nods and he nodded in return and tension he'd almost forgotten began to dissipate at the easy familiarity and the steam. His body relaxed, slowly, as his inner fires fell to a simmer. Zuko felt himself almost slipping into a doze when Sokka startled him.

"Don't mind that old goat."

Zuko swallowed to clear his throat. "What?"

"His Ancient Spookiness. Tuwalek."

"But –"

"Oh I know. Auka says he was grilling you about your clan – or your _lack_ of clan, I guess." Sokka shrugged. "Clans are important, but _people_ are important, too. And Bear clan is still obligated to aid Katara's kids – maybe more so after that _idiot_… anyway. My point is, don't worry too much about what Tuwalek says."

Zuko inhaled, held his breath, exhaled. "It's hard not to worry."

"I think he's just taking it out on you. He doesn't like Yue much, and he didn't like when Hahn came back here, and now he certainly won't like you, since you killed that idiot _and_ put Bear clan in Killer Whale clan's debt _and_ everyone likes you more than they _ever_ liked Hahn. _And_ you're marrying Katara, except you already _have_, and he doesn't like that it wasn't _him_ who did the woo-woo stuff and said it was okay."

"But he –"

"Look." Sokka leaned forward to prod the heated rocks with a blackened stick. "His Ancient Spookiness's job is to talk with the spirits and make sure we aren't angering them. Now, I'm no spirit, but I think they probably have bigger things to worry about than whether two people share their blankets and anyway, it's the Mothers who make the real decisions about marriages and clan alliances – after the warriors have had their say. The old goat is just being consulted to make sure they don't anger the spirits – which Yue already _did,_ and no lightning serpent has struck you yet, has it?"

Zuko frowned. "He asked – he said that if I died, Katara would be driven mad with grief because I have no family."

Sokka shrugged again. "The old ones say that if a powerful man dies, his family will be too distraught to perform the rituals for the dead, so his father's clan must do them." He crossed his arms and leaned back. "_I_ say, it's pretty convenient that the spirits don't get upset when _non_-powerful men die. Besides." He elbowed Zuko in the ribs. "You know Katara. Do you really think she'd be driven mad with grief? She'd be mad, all right – but mad _at_ you, not _because_ of you."

Zuko's uncertainty must have shown on his face, as Sokka slapped his back. "Don't worry. You and Katara are _made_ for each other. It'll be fine."

The worry lingered, though, as he splashed into the sea with the other men and made his way back to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House. Sokka grunted a goodnight as Zuko moved towards Katara's – _their_ – sleeping niche. She lay on her side, one arm over Tahnra and Akiak beside her and Zuko stood for a long time watching them before he slid in behind her. She stirred and murmured and moved into him but didn't wake, and he slept before he thought he'd be able to.

* * *

Tuwalek summoned Zuko to Old Man Raven House again the next morning.

"The One-Who-Remembers has returned, and wishes to speak," Kana said, but her stern countenance revealed nothing of what would be spoken of. The worry Zuko had almost shed returned, churning in his gut as he walked the beach behind Kana. Katara walked with him this time, her shoulder brushing comfortingly against his, but Kana shook her head when she tried to follow him into Old Man Raven House.

Again, Tuwalek seemed not to have moved since Zuko first saw him, sitting on a cushion at the fore of the house. He glared at Zuko. "You. Xtl'ikgut'tlak. You still have the presumption to wish to marry Katara of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House."

Zuko restrained his first response, instead nodding once and dropping his gaze to the floor before him.

"It disgusts me that you, who came here with _nothing_, not even a clan to stand at your back, wish to marry a respected Mother of the Killer Whale Clan."

Zuko felt his throat tightening, the rage choking his words even as he opened his mouth to shout _sense_ at the old man, when Kana's voice broke the pause.

"I _remember_," she began, nodding to Zuko and then turning to address Tuwalek. "Many, many years ago, my four-times-cousin, of the Otter Clan, married a man from far to the south. He wasn't a Raven, and he wasn't a Wolf, and he brought no clan to represent him. He said he was of the Snowbear People, who my four-times-cousin's village had never heard of. The Mothers and the One-Who-Remembers talked for many days. They made this man prove his worth to the other men of the village, who found him worthy, and so the mothers decided that he would join the house, and his children with my four-times-cousin would be Otter Clan, as is our way." Kana folded her hands.

"This man, this _foreigner_ –"

Kana cut him off. "Honored One, have the spirits have spoken against the union?"

"He will bring misfortune to the village, should you allow him to – "

"_Tuwalek_. Have the _spirits _given you a _sign_ against the _union_?"

Tuwalek held Kana's stare as Zuko held his breath. "No." He looked away. "They seem to have no protest. But the _foreigner_ –"

Kana raised her hand, her face tightening into a mask of authority. "It is not your place to worry about matters of alliance and inheritance. The Mothers have spoken, and decided. Bear Clan stands ready to come to the aid of Katara's children, should they need it. The actions of the _other_ did not sever that alliance."

She turned to Zuko. "The _foreigner_, Xtl'ikgut'tlak from across the ocean, has brought wealth and honor to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House and Faces-The-East Village alike. Any child he sires will be Killer Whale Clan, as is our way, and Xtl'ikgut'tlak, _Thuko_, has proven himself powerful enough to stand without a clan." Tuwalek seemed ready to protest again, but closed his mouth under her glare. Her expression softened as she turned to Zuko. "The Mothers have decided. The binding ceremony will take place at the next full moon."

"But –"

Kana didn't even glance at Tuwalek. "Thuko, your intended waits outside. You may convey our decision to her." Her tone held dismissal that otherwise would have chafed, but Zuko felt too stunned to protest. He dipped his head, rose to his feet, bowed first to her and then, on impulse to Tuwalek, and made his way on shaky legs to the mouth opening.

Katara waited for him outside, anxiety clear on her face. "What did they say?"

He stared at her and thought suddenly of the months of negotiation and ceremony needed for a noble wedding in the Fire Nation, the strict rules of conduct and seclusion and purification, the contracts and dowries and formal announcements. "Your gran says the binding ceremony will happen in two weeks."

Her face brightened in joy and all the anxiety, all the tension and uncertainty and resentment fell away as she moved into him. _Two weeks!_ he thought again, but then slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close.


	34. Crafted

**Crafted**

_posted November 9, 2010_

* * *

Thin mist lay over the sea the next morning when Zuko emerged from the water. Katara waited on the shore, her smile warm before she slipped into a waiting stance. Zuko smirked and raised his arms but didn't step forward.

She struck first, drawing water from the damp beach and the sea itself, but he was ready and sprang away, fire in his wake. They said nothing this time, exchanging no taunts with their blows, but Zuko felt the heat in her gaze. The fight carried them far down the beach as the gray morning brightened, their footfalls on the stony beach ringing in the stillness. Zuko finally lost – his footing to a slick of ice and the match to Katara's grin as she sat on his legs.

"Oof," he grunted, but didn't struggle. His breath steamed in the cold air and at length Katara slid off his legs. Zuko levered himself up beside her as the sun appeared over the distant shore and the mist faded away into daylight. The breeze made patterns play over the water as Zuko watched Katara watch the sea. He reached to touch her, stroke loose hair from her face.

She smiled and turned into him, and Zuko slid his arm around her shoulder to pull her close. "You seem happy this morning."

She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "Very happy."

"I thought… I thought you had hoped to avoid another wedding, but now..." he shrugged.

She laughed, surprising him. "Thuko, the ceremony is in two weeks – that's barely enough time to prepare a feast, let alone the gifts needed. This will be a small wedding." She sighed, relieved and content. "Nothing like the last one."

"Kana – your gran – does this mean she approves of me?"

"Of course she approves of you! You've shown your worth to the village, you've acted as a father to Tahnra and Akiak, and you make me happy." Katara leaned in for a kiss, then pulled back to search his face. "You're worrying. Why?"

Zuko looked away and let flame escape with his breath in a sigh. He raked his hand through his hair.

"I'm nervous," he confessed. "I'm worried that I'll do something wrong. I don't know your customs and I don't want to embarrass you in front of your family." He knew her well enough now to see that she wouldn't snicker, or sigh, but still he feared her answer.

She laughed again, the sound warm and bright in the chilly morning as she slipped her hand from his to wrap her arms around him, lean into him and look up at his face. "This is your wedding too, Thuko." She arched her brow. "How can I be sure that I won't do something wrong in the eyes of your _Fire Nation_? We'll both just do what feels right." She kissed his cheek, then leaned back and rose to her feet. She offered her hands and Zuko took them to let her help pull him up.

They stood together on the beach a moment longer and Zuko inhaled, exhaled, released the lingering doubts with another flicker of flame. Katara looped her arm through his and tipped her head to grin up at him and Zuko couldn't help but return the smile. Her grin widened as she pulled him forward. "Let's get back to the house – I don't want to dig my own clams this morning."

* * *

Later that morning, Zuko held the finished prow in place as Orvik fitted it carefully to the canoe. "We will seal the seams with pitch once it is steamed," Orvik explained as Zuko watched him fasten the piece with strips of pounded bark fiber.

"Steamed?" he asked.

Orvik nodded, pulling another stitch tight. "Tell me, does this craft look as seaworthy as the others in our village?"

Zuko considered the vessel: the carved sides were smooth and thin, but it seemed rounder, bulky and ungainly and like to tip over in a wave. "No."

"Ah. You can appreciate a vessel's form." Orvik nodded in approval. "When we are finished carving," he nodded to the block of wood that would become the stern, sewn in place like the prow, "we will bend the sides into shape by steaming them."

Zuko nodded, trying to envision the process as Orvik worked. Soon, though, his thoughts turned back to worry over Katara's words that morning, and he spoke before he realized he intended to. "Can I ask you something?"

Orvik raised his brow, in surprise or in assent or both.

"Katara said –" Zuko started, then he realized that he had not spoken of the marriage at all. "That is, I… you might have heard… I'm getting – the Mothers have approved a marriage bond between Katara – Katara of the Killer Whale Clan? – and myself." He paused to steady himself as Orvik worked and waited patiently. "What I mean to ask is, I don't know the customs for marriage. Katara spoke of gifts needed for a wedding, but no one else has." The words were a relief. "Do you know – can you tell me what I need to do? What gifts are needed?"

Orvik leaned back on his heels and looked away, his gaze distant but not closed. He seemed to study the horizon as Zuko waited. A heron screamed in the distance before Orvik turned back.

"These are good questions, Xtl'ikgut'tlak. Gifts are indeed an important part of marriage. The exchange is one of promise between two clans. She who gives does so to seek witnesses who will stand for her. She who receives does so in promise to remember. This is how marriages, and deaths, and births, and the payment of debts are remembered and honored. Surely a marriage between you and Katara will require such gifts for such a momentous event." He spread his hands wide as if to shrug. "But I am not a Mother to dictate what wealth is required for this."

Zuko nodded. Gifts of alliance, he could understand. "What kinds of gifts are usually exchanged?"

Orvik took up the strip of fiber again and resumed stitching the prow in place. "Blankets and baskets. Fine weaving, and hats, and masks. Weapons and fishing nets. Boxes. The boxes Arluk carved last season were a gift to Old Man Raven House for witnessing the birth of Arluk's niece." He indicated the canoe that Zuko helped shape. "This canoe will be a gift to Sifts-The-Shallows House, among other gifts, in my sister's marriage this next season."

Zuko nodded again, thinking of traditional wedding gifts in the Fire Nation: bolts of silk and titles to land, precious metals and mining rights. _The Water Tribe creates their own wealth_, he realized.

* * *

That evening as Katara sat near the fire with Tahnra and other women and Akiak lay asleep on their sleeping platform, Zuko pulled his chest from where it now rested below Katara's sleeping platform. The baskets and bowls and copper breastplate Hakoda had given him lay atop his spare blankets, next to the pearl dagger Song had given him on the _Nu Shi Lian_, so similar to the one he'd cherished for so many years.

Underneath the blankets, he knew, lay the merchant's robes also from the _Nu Shi Lian_ and the rags of his old clothing – of his old _life_ – but he did not reach for them. Instead, he found the mountain sheep horn and the thin knife Sokka had given him to shape it.

He picked the horn up, ran his thumb over the shapes he'd incised in the surface. He thought he could see what he wanted it to be, but –

"And how's the happy husband _tonight_?"

Zuko bit back a yelp as Sokka plunked down beside him, then glared.

Sokka shrugged, embarrassment on his face. "Auka told me to ask – actually, she nagged me and threatened to keep nagging until I asked. I think she's worried that your barbarous foreign customs will embarrass her during the wedding."

Zuko snorted.

Sokka slapped his shoulder and started to stand. "Well, good! Glad we had this little talk, then."

"Wait." Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose and felt a headache coming on. "What, exactly, happens at a Water Tribe wedding? What am I supposed to do? What gifts am I supposed to give?"

"Well, this is a small wedding, so probably not too much." Sokka shrugged again. "It's the big ones that you really have to worry about."

"What happens in a 'big' marriage?"

"Well, the woman's family usually holds a li wuk – the more important their house and their clan, the bigger the party. They give stuff to everyone who comes. The really big ones, the family gives away everything they own."

The disbelief must have shown on Zuko's face, as Sokka continued.

"It's supposed to be so that everyone remembers the marriage and the alliance, but it's also just a way for the clan to show off their own importance. Anyway, then the man's family gives stuff to the woman – to them both, really, but it's to the woman's clan. Blankets and baskets and things like that, to show that the man's clan is ready to aid his family, even though his kids won't be of his clan."

_That… almost makes sense_, he thought as Sokka continued.

"Then, the man gives stuff to the woman. Special stuff – you know, carvings, or jewelry. Something to show her he's serious."

Zuko waited for Sokka to continue, but he remained quiet. Zuko sighed. "What does the woman give?"

Sokka grinned and elbowed him and Zuko felt his face heat.

"Seriously, though. Don't worry. No one's planning a big wedding. Believe me, you'd know."

"I'm not worried."

"Yes you are. Look, no one is expecting this to be a big deal. The _last_ wedding was a big deal, and she's probably told you how _that_ turned out." He clapped Zuko's shoulder and then stood. "Don't worry."

"But what am I supposed to _do_?"

Sokka shrugged. "Make some art." He gestured at the carving in Zuko's hands. "Maybe you should finally finish that – whatever _that_ is." With that he turned away, calling to one of the warriors across the house.

Zuko stared at the horn, turning it over in his hands. Firelight caught the ridges and whorls in the shape, echoes of grand carvings from the great capital city, dragons and phoenixes captured mid-flight in lacquer and pearl. The shape in his hand seems crude in comparison, seemed stiff and lifeless next to the whale emerging gracefully under Sokka's knife.

He rubbed his fingers over the ridges, thinking of scales and feathers and glittering eyes. He inhaled, exhaled, took up the thin carving knife, and set again to work.

* * *

Zuko felt gratitude and a soft sense of pride the next day when Orvik guided him in shaping the canoe's stern piece, the block of wood he'd stripped of bark. "Small strokes, Xtl'ikgut'tlak. The piece must fit perfectly." They tried it often against the gap in the stern left by heartwood, and finally Orvik nodded. Together, they wedged it in place with a mallet until the piece lay flush against the hull.

As they stood back to assess this work, Arluk the woodcarver stepped into the shed. "Fine work, Orvik. Xtl'ikgut'tlak. When do you plan the steaming?" This question he directed at Orvik, who frowned thoughtfully.

"A quarter turn of the moon, I think. The knot holes must be plugged, and this one –" he nodded to Zuko "– will soon be busy." Both men grinned as Zuko felt his face heat, but they turned back to the canoe.

"What did you have in mind?" Arluk asked.

"A gift to Sifts-The-Shallows House," Orvik said. "Of Otter Clan." He stepped forward to tap the gunwale.

"Otter," Arluk repeated. "And Urchin. Do you have a spare plank?"

Zuko swallowed his questions as Orvik rummaged through wood piled at one corner of the shed and Arluk drew a half-charred stick from the small cookfire. He nodded in thanks to Orvik, then set charcoal to plank and began to sketch, glancing up at the canoe at times. "A low prow," he muttered, as fantastic designs like those on the great houses took shape.

"What will you make the design with?" Zuko asked as Arluk paused to consider the sketch. He glanced up, as if remembering Zuko and Orvik's presence.

"Paint," he said, but the inflection held no sarcasm. "A canoe such as this one needs no carving. Black, I think, with the Sea Urchin House's purple." Orvik nodded with him.

"What do you make your brushes from?"

Arluk smudged out a line with the heel of his hand, sketched another in its place. "Porcupine hair, if I can get it, or bear fur."

"How do you get it? I mean…" he tried to swallow his sudden eagerness. "How could I find the materials to make brushes?"

Both men looked up at him in surprise and Zuko tried not to look away in embarrassment. Seabirds called in the distance, the roar of the sea beyond them.

"The season is not right for either," Orvik said. "But perhaps…"

"Last season was generous to Shark-Swims-The-Deep House," Arluk responded. "You may have some from my supply."

Zuko tried not to grin or stammer thanks. "You are most generous," he said instead, and set fist to palm to bow. Both Orvik and Arluk tipped their heads in acknowledgement, and returned to the sketch.

* * *

Dusk had fallen when Zuko returned to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House, the bundle Arluk had given him tucked under one arm. He slipped it into his chest, then turned to join Katara beside the fire. She looked up at him with relief and turned back to Tahnra. "Here, Tahnra, put your spindle away for dinner."

"But Mama, I almost did it!"

"I know, sweetie. But you'll do it again tomorrow."

She pouted for a minute, then brightened when she saw Zuko. "See my spinning, Daddy?"

Warmth washed over him, and he almost forgot to look at the spindle held in her hands. "It's very nice."

She grinned and scampered away. Beside him, Katara sighed. "It's not, really – I'm not a very good teacher. I've never been good at spinning. Or weaving."

Zuko took her hand, pulled her to him. "You have plenty of other talents." He felt her grin in the way she settled against him.

"Maybe I'll send her to Auka. _She's_ a master spinner. But her dyes run at the first rain."

"Speaking of which," Zuko started. "I wanted to ask you about colors. Pigments."

She pulled back to look at him. "Pigments? What for?"

Zuko, to his surprise, found himself smug. "You'll find out."

Her smile widened in delight before she drew her brows together in a mock frown. "You can have this secret," she sniffed. "But when we are married – _again_ – I expect you to tell me everything."

He bent to kiss her. "We'll see about that."

* * *

Time moved by, the day of the ceremony sliding closer, and Zuko was unsurprised to find Katara and the other women gone when he returned to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House one evening. He ate with Sokka and Hakoda, Akiak settled in his lap, and later tucked both children beneath the blankets he now shared with Katara.

The rest of the lodge, the men and children and elderly women, settled in for the night as Zuko pulled a bundle from his chest and stepped quietly down to the fire. He wished again, for a moment, for a lamp or a candle or a brazier, but the cookfire threw enough light for his purposes, especially when he coaxed it up from coals.

In the Fire Nation and as a young man angry at the world, he had worked with the finest ink stones and milled paints, with sable brushes and smooth white rice papers. His calligraphy tutor had been a renowned artist and an epic poet and had hounded Zuko until every stroke and character lay perfect on the scroll. Those memories, like most from his youth, held edges sharp like glass, but hazy summer afternoons spent gathering grasses and clays had settled softly over them.

"Weeds and dirt," Zuko had whined, but Uncle had smiled and shown him how to mix a basic palette from gathered materials. _Thank you, Uncle_, Zuko thought now. Charcoal for black, a deep red-brown from clay found in the woods, a pale yellow from a certain grass: he mixed each in shallow wooden bowls, then spread a thin hide, scraped smooth, on the floor before him. The brush he'd made from bear fur and a smooth stick of _meimu_ wood felt crude in his hand when he dipped it in the ink, but he breathed deeply and set it to the parchment.

The strokes dragged on the rough surface, but the lines flowed bold and proud from the brush, the shapes familiar and soothing as Zuko worked late into the night.

* * *

He filled three parchments in three evenings, gaining confidence and frustration with each attempt.

The shapes of the Fire Nation loomed in his memory, the sweep of beaches and the angles of harbors, the way the mountains loomed over the city sharp against the summer sky. Zuko wished again for the reds and greens and blues to truly bring the scenes to life, the complement the words he didn't know yet if he could speak.

He studied the fourth parchment critically in the fire's last embers. It looked nothing like Kang Mei's Seven Scrolls or Juozhi's great mural in the capital city, even nothing like the works sold at city markets. _Still,_ he reflected, _my painting is better than my carving_. At Sokka's suggestion, he'd shaped the mountain sheep horn into a bracelet, but it still looked crude to Zuko's eyes.

He shook off the moment of doubt to clean his brushes and pack them carefully away with the paints and pigments. The finished painting he lay atop his chest to dry before standing a moment beside the sleeping platform. Tahnra and Akiak slept curled together, Tahnra snoring softly while Akiak sucked his fingers. Zuko smiled and settled in beside them and slept easily that night despite Katara's absence.

* * *

The women returned as Kana launched Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House into the final preparations for the ceremony. "_Out_," she said firmly, and Sokka had to pull Zuko away from Katara's kiss.

"Don't worry," she called, laughing, as Auka pulled her away in turn. "I'll see you soon enough."

"You've got it bad, Thuko," Sokka said when they stood outside. Thin rain fell from a gray sky but Zuko hardly had time to notice as Sokka dragged him along from the beach. "Come on – if the women get to do their thing, then we get to do _ours_."

"'Our thing,'" Zuko repeated.

"Right."

"Our thing" turned out to be a steam bath, with most of the men from Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House packed inside. Good-natured teasing and lewd jokes in time gave way to silence under the heat, and Zuko leaned back to let the sweat pour down his neck and shoulders. He wished, almost, for Fire Nation baths and oils, the perfumed soaps and silk robes and delicate incense and myriad small ceremonies to cleanse oneself for a ceremony as important as a wedding.

Later, though, as he and the other men ran down the beach with shouts and taunts and the sea crashed cold into his heated skin, Zuko decided that, perhaps, cleansing himself in the sea better fit marriage to a waterbender.

* * *

He spent the night as a guest of Shark-Swims-The-Deep House – "Gran-Gran will _kill_ me if I let you go back _now!_" Sokka had laughed – but Zuko barely slept and too soon after an eternity he felt the sun rise. He swam again in the sea, missing Katara on the empty beach, then let Sokka hustle him back into the house. Auka, mercifully, was absent, though Sokka proved nearly as fussy.

"Are your gifts ready? What _are_ you giving her, anyway? Hold _still _– now remember, the ceremony is more about Killer Whale Clan showing off than about _you_, Thuko." Zuko nodded at each comment as Sokka didn't stop for answers, and soon enough he was decked out in a fine woven blanket, intricately stitched leggings, and the copper breastplate Hakoda had given him.

Sokka stepped back to study him critically. "It'd be better if you had a headdress with your crest, but you don't have an uncle to cave one for you, anyway. It'll do, I guess. Now." He adjusted his own blanket and clapped his hands and Zuko let himself be dragged from one great house to the next.

The ceremony, indeed, stretched lengthy as Zuko stood opposite Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House's central platform. Ordinarily, Sokka had explained, the man's own clan would stand with him to witness the gifting, but Zuko stood alone and let it wash around him and over him. Kana and Hakoda and Auka and others had greeted him formally and turned to distributing baskets and blankets and boxes to the guests crowded together into the great house, but Zuko ignored them and watched Katara.

She stood to one side of her father and grandmother with Tahnra beside her and Akiak in her arms. She wore a blanket finer than any Zuko had yet seen and a long woven skirt and bracelets looped around her wrists. Her hair had been braided and pulled up with beads and sticks, but he hardly noticed these details next to the warmth of her smile as their eyes met across the house. _I love you_, she mouthed.

An eternity later, Sokka broke away from the main platform to nudge Zuko forward. "Your turn, brother," he whispered, and Zuko swallowed against dryness in his throat. He inhaled, exhaled, lifted his chin, and stepped forward with a lifetime of court ceremony in his stride.

Around him, the house grew quiet so that it lay completely silent when he reached the central platform. The words Sokka had made him repeat flowed through his memory. "_Remember_," he had said, sometime between fussing over Zuko's breastplate and tying a woven sash around his waist. "You don't have a clan to stand for you, so you can skip most 'and my house presents' parts."

"Kana of Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House, of Killer Whale Clan," Zuko now said instead. "As you know, my family is far away, across the ocean and unable to stand with me today." If Kana was surprised by this declaration, she gave no sign, only nodded for him to continue. "My uncle, if he were here, would present many gifts to Killer Whale Clan and to Katara's family, in promise of his support."

He paused there, then continued, the words coming easily despite the crowd. "Since he is not here today, I will present something in his stead, a token of that promise." He stepped forward, ascending the steps to the platform and moving across it until he stood before Katara. Akiak reached for him, but Katara set her son down on the platform and looked up at Zuko, surprise and interest on her face beside excitement and joy. Zuko could not hold back his own smile before he drew the pearl dagger from the sash around his waist. He pulled it from its lacquered sheath and held it out to her on his palms.

"My uncle gave a knife like this to me when I was young. It… " Here, only, he faltered. He glanced down, then back to Katara. "He would want you to have it."

His words hung in the air for a heartbeat, two, more, before she reached to take the dagger from his hands. She nodded, once, her eyes bright with happiness and perhaps with tears and she tucked it into her own sash and looked back up at him. _I could watch her forever_, Zuko realized, but forced himself to continue.

"I bring gifts for you, too," he said, hoping his voice was steady. The mountain sheep horn, now a bracelet patterned with scales or feathers or perhaps flame or even waves, glinted in the firelight as he reached for her hand. Almost he apologized for how crude it seemed, but Katara smiled as he slipped it around her wrist. "How am I doing?" he whispered, for her only.

She quirked her brow and smiled and started to turn back to Kana and Hakoda, thinking this portion over, but Zuko stopped her. He pulled the parchment from where he had tucked it in his blanket and unrolled it. "In the Fire Nation – in my land, across the ocean – we, too, bear witness, but not with gifts as you know them." He met Katara's eyes before she studied the painted images: the Fire Nation's volcanic mountains plunging into the sea, the forests spreading beyond. Above the image lay the traditional words written in the old script: names and dates and a vow that perhaps, some day, he would speak aloud to her.

Her eyes widened as she took it in, then she touched the surface with one finger before looking at him again. The wonder on her face stole his breath and he tried to speak to everyone as he knew he spoke only to her.

"In my land, this _painting_ is a way to display the marriage of a man and a woman for all to see, so that all may witness it." He stopped, there, and met Kana's approving gaze, Hakoda's smile and Sokka's grin and Auka's mollified smirk. Beside him, Katara rolled the painting up again and took his hand and they stepped forward together.

More words were exchanged, promises and questions and responses, but Zuko barely noticed them, focused instead on the warmth of Katara's palm against his, her shoulder brushing his arm. At some point between the short speeches and declarations, Auka came forward to mark each of them in turn with sky-blue paint, swipes and swirls across their foreheads before she retreated again with a smirk.

Zuko barely remembered to move when prompted, to turn in the circle to face each other as Kana and Auka – and Tahnra, standing on her toes – draped a blanket around them both. Behind them the guests murmured and then a single voice raised over them in song, joined a moment later by drums.

"I love you," Zuko whispered, and pulled her against him.

This ended the ceremony, but the feast that followed seemed as important as the binding itself. They sat side by side on the central platform, the blanket draped over their shoulders as guests brought them food.

"Is this still part of the binding?" Zuko asked as yet another guest – a young man from Sea Urchin House, he thought – retreated with a platter.

"I suppose so," Katara responded, lifting a strip of salmon. The paint on her forehead was smudged. "It's to honor us, and our house, and by doing so honor their own houses. But really." She paused to chew. "What would a celebration be without food?"

"Long and boring," Zuko muttered in High Fire Nation.

"What was that?"

He reached for her hand to squeeze her fingers. "I like your way of marriage."

She smiled.

* * *

They danced later, as evening gave way to night and the cookfire burned bright with celebration. Zuko watched warriors and waterbenders move together on stage, advancing and retreating to the time of drums as Katara sat beside him, Akiak on his lap and Tahnra holding court before them. The blanket still draped over their shoulders and Katara's fingers were strong as she stroked the back of his hand.

The dance ended and the dancers stepped down as a hush fell through the great house. The hosts and guests turned one by one to Katara, who smiled and stood. The blanket slipped from her shoulders as she extended her hands and a single drum beat from the darkness beyond the fire. Too late, Zuko realized the trap.

"Oh, no. _No._ No – I don't dance – my _people_ don't dance!" Not like the Water Tribe, at least, but he wouldn't share _that_ caveat.

"Thuko. You're of _our_ people now, too – and our people _dance_."

He opened his mouth to snap a protest, but then saw the hope in her expression and bit back the words. _Spirits help me_, he thought, but allowed her to pull him to his feet. He moved awkwardly with the drums and chants but Katara's smile soothed his hesitation as she moved with him, opposite him, advancing and retreating and returning to his arms.

The house whispered and hushed as the central fire burned into coals and Hakoda bundled Tahnra and Akiak against sleepy protests onto his sleeping platform, and finally they were left alone to tumble into their own bed. They again moved together, Katara like water above him, biting her lip as she crested like a wave, ebbed like the tide before Zuko rolled them over and they shuddered together with the fire's last embers.

_This is mine_, Zuko thought, threading his fingers through her hair as their breathing slowed and she traced the curve of his shoulder. _As I'm hers_.

"There will be no child from tonight," she murmured, her breath soft on his skin. "But the moon waxes, and soon the time while be right, and there will be no need to hold back my courses."

The words were seawater over heated skin, shocking and numbing at once. "_Child?_"

"Surely your _Fire Nation_ produces children the same way we do?"

_A child_. He felt his pulse race, his breathing quicken, and he opened his mouth with no idea what to say.

She stroked her thumb over his cheek. "Thuko?"

"What – before… Tahnra and Akiak…" he started, but his thoughts were too jumbled.

"Thuko, we're married now, in every way that matters, and I want a child with _you_." He heard the smile in her voice. "I know you still don't know if you can stay with me. I can see it in your eyes and feel it in your touch, even if you've said the words and moved in the dance. But even if I can't keep _you_, I want a child of yours, to cherish and honor your memory by."

Her words kindled terror and joy and unease. The old fears of fatherhood, of being like his _own_ father, warred with soft new desire for this life with _her_… but, too, the year moved towards spring, towards Toph's return and the uncertainty of decisions not yet made. In his mind's eye, he saw Katara on the beach, belly rounded with pregnancy, as he left her – left her with their _child_, who would grow up never knowing a father_. _The vision made him as ill as thoughts of his own childhood.

"I don't know if I can give you that," he whispered.

Katara tensed, rigid against him. "What do you mean, 'you can't give me that?' It's my _right_ as your _wife_. It's a man's _duty_ to sire children as it is a woman's duty to _bear_ them. You can't refuse me this!" A storm's fury raged in her whisper, but beneath that Zuko heard despair.

He swallowed against the pain in his own throat. "I _can't_ –" he started, but felt iron anger in her limbs as she tried to pull away and he trapped her in his arms, hiding his face in the curve of her shoulder. "Not yet," he whispered. "_Please_, not yet."

The tension in her did not relax, but she stayed still and silent and Zuko held his breath until she nodded once against him. He let out his breath, feeling it catch in his throat like a sob.

Throughout that night, their wedding night, her breath never deepened in sleep but neither did she pull away and at length Zuko slid exhausted into restless dreams of storming oceans.


	35. Shaped

**Shaped**

_posted December 17, 2010_

* * *

The fire had burned to coals glowing among ashes when Zuko woke, and the first gray blush of dawn traced Katara's form where she lay against him. Zuko raised his hand to stroke loose hair from where it had fallen across her face; he let his fingers linger on her skin. She murmured but didn't stir and he watched her face as dawn broke through the overhead smoke-hole.

He stood on the rocky shore below the great houses for a long time after he swam. The air held winter's chill, but each day the sun rose earlier as the equinox crept closer. _What is wrong with you?_ Zuko asked himself, yet again, as the dawn faded to leaden clouds and restless sea.

Katara waited when he turned back to the shore, her arms folded and her mouth pressed in a thin line, but she looked apprehensive and almost shy, the emotion startling as she met his eyes. _What must she think of me?_ Zuko wondered, but the first of the tension left her shoulders as she dropped her eyes and picked her way down the beach. He reached out when she neared, and she took his hand and let him draw her into him. The morning's breeze strengthened, but Katara was warm in his arms, against his cheek where he rested his face on her neck. She sighed, the breath shuddering from her, and Zuko echoed it.

Neither spoke, even when they broke apart and turned back up the beach, but Zuko felt some measure of peace fall over him as they walked hand in hand back to the great house.

* * *

The canoe lay smooth and solid beneath the carving shed, the few knot holes now filled with wooden bungs. Orvik tapped each one with a mallet to test the fit, while Zuko smoothed the approved ones with careful adze blows. If Orvik found his silence odd for a man just married, the carver gave no indication. _Then again_, Zuko thought, _I_ _suppose he's used to my moods by now_.

"I have asked Ontok, my youngest brother, to join us this afternoon," Orvik said when they paused to eat a rich, salty fish stew. "I believe, Xtl'ikgut'tlak, that we are ready to shape this vessel." These simple words held great satisfaction and anticipation, to which Zuko had no response but a nod.

When Ontok arrived, Zuko recognized him as one of the young waterbenders who had guided the canoes between ice flows on the seal hunts many months ago. _Almost a year_, he thought, as Orvik lay fresh cedar branches into the vessel and Ontok sank into a bending position. Orvik surprised Zuko by starting to sing, his voice low and rough, as his brother stretched and pulled at the air.

The sea lapping the beach below the carving shed stretched and belled, elongating into a clumsy stream that snaked towards the canoe. Orvik's song told of gratitude and excitement, a vessel straining under patient hands to be borne into the sea. Ontok spread his hands wide, guiding seawater over the vessel to release it with a splash. It spread through the canoe, trickling down the soft grooves and channels left by adzes and wetting the green boughs. Orvik stopped singing and in that moment, the silence felt heavy, profound, as if the spirits themselves had paused to witness.

Then Orvik clapped Ontok on the shoulder and Ontok grinned and wiped his brow and reached again for the sea. The expectant silence dissolved into ordinary sounds of wind and waves and distant seabirds.

At first, Orvik and Zuko watched as Ontok repeated his motions, bending water in short bursts and streams and listening to it splash into canoe. Soon, though, Orvik turned away, gesturing to Zuko to follow him to the back of the carving shed. Here, they pulled hide tarps from boxes, shaking the folds out and draping them on racks alongside the canoe. "The seawater will work its way into the canoe tonight," Orvik explained. "Tomorrow, we will begin heating it. These tarps will help keep steam within the vessel, to further soften the wood and prepare it for shaping."

Zuko nodded and they worked in companionable silence. They gathered adzes and hammers and mallets and stored them away in small boxes. They swept curled cedar shavings and stubs of wood into the cookfire, and carried accumulated shells and fish bones to a midden farther down the beach. Still Ontok worked, his face beginning to show exhaustion as afternoon faded and the canoe filled splash by splash.

Katara, Zuko knew, could have filled the canoe in half the time with a quarter the effort. In comparison, Ontok was clumsy, slow and unpracticed. _Why aren't men taught to bend?_ Zuko wondered. He remembered the male waterbenders at Moon Rising village, and wondered if children there learned together, if his –

_A child_, he thought, and he tried to focus on the work before him.

Dusk fell before Orvik nodded and raised his hand. Water lay two hand spans deep in the canoe, and Ontok looked relieved. "Our thanks for your help," Orvik said, and nodded to Zuko in farewell for the evening.

The rain that had threatened all day fell as Zuko walked along the beach, thin and drizzling and damp as anxiety built in his gut. He and Katara had not actually spoken that morning – what if she were angry, or gathering her pride to reject him? Would she resent him? Would her face hold the bitterness he'd heard in her voice? He paused outside Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House to breathe deep once, twice, a third time before steeling himself and stepping inside.

The great house was warm in contrast to outside's chill drizzle, holding the cheerful chaos of mealtime. Hakoda sat with Sokka and a warrior from another house, while Kana sat in the place of honor, Tua a step behind her. Zuko saw it all in that instant before he found Katara in the midst of it, Akiak on her lap and Tahnra standing before her. Their eyes met and he saw tension that mirrored his. Then her mouth curved in a tentative smile and she tipped her head before Tahnra tugged her arm and she turned away.

Zuko sagged in relief, leaning back against the wall beside the mouth-opening for an instant before making his way to the place beside her – _his_ place, now – and accepting the bowl of stewed meat Tahnra had fetched for him. The evening's easy routine helped him relax, and when dancers and singers stepped up later, Katara leaned against him and twined her fingers with his.

When the songs ended, Zuko wondered if Katara would send Tahnra and Akiak across the great house to Hakoda's sleeping platform, but instead she tucked them into the bed she now shared with Zuko. She settled in beside them and turned to Zuko, hope and fear warring on her face before he knelt beside her and took one of her hands. She closed her eyes as he kissed each of her knuckles, then sighed as he released her hand to lay down and pull her against him. The darkness around them, the small sounds of Tahnra and Akiak's breathing, and the feel of Katara's skin against his soon lulled Zuko into sleep.

* * *

The next day dawned fair and clear, the most pleasant morning since winter's storms had blown over the land. The great houses emptied onto the beach after the morning meals, as Faces-To-The-East village took advantage of the sun for chores and play.

Children's laughter rang along the beach as Zuko helped Orvik build up the canoe shed's cookfire. Zuko had offered to heat the water in the canoe, but Orvik had shaken his head. "For this, Xtl'ikgut'tlak, I prefer the old ways, if only for they are the ones that I have long practiced."

Zuko stifled his sigh and resigned himself to a long day of heating stones and maneuvering them into the canoe, raising the temperature one splash at a time. At first, Orvik limited him to tending the fire and moving soot-stained stones from a pile beside the shed into the fire. Orvik showed him how to push each stone into the coals using a hard _meimu_ wood stick. "They must be heated evenly, or they may explode when placed into the water."

Zuko nodded, but found it easier to position them with his fingers, moving his qi to bend the heat away from his skin. _Just like Uncle and his teapots_, he thought, as the morning passed and the water in the canoe warmed. Soon enough, the work became routine and Zuko helped Orvik pull tarps over the canoe as well as tend the fire and heating stones.

"What are you doing?" Tahnra asked, startling Zuko. He'd last seen her far down the beach with other children, but now she stood at the edge of the carving shed. He looked up to see Orvik smile.

"We're shaping the canoe, little one."

"Can I watch?"

Orvik tipped his head at Zuko. _It's my decision, _he realized. _As her father. _Somehow, he found the words to respond. "You can watch. But be _careful_." She nodded, her smile so wide Zuko had to return it, but she had already turned back to the canoe, clasping her hands behind her back as she stood on her toes to peer into it.

Zuko expected her to soon grow bored and scamper back to the other children playing on the beach, but she remained quiet, even helping Orvik layer more branches into the canoe. She stepped back out of the way as Zuko helped Orvik re-position the tarps, thin steam escaping where two overlapped.

Orvik paused to wipe sweat from his forehead. "My thanks again for your help, Xtl'ikgut'tlak. Without you –"

A scream cut him off and Zuko fell into a defensive crouch ready for –

Tahnra wailed, standing beside the fire with a still-hot rock at her feet, and Zuko's vision bled into panicked white. _Oh spirits, no_. He leapt forward, pulling her away from the fire.

"_Katara!_" he shouted, but he hadn't seen her on the beach and Tahnra sobbed in pain as Zuko rocked her against him. "Oh, Tahnra, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry sweetheart – _Katara!_"

He heard Orvik's voice but didn't hear the words as Zuko caught Tahnra's wrists in one hand to keep her from grabbing him. Her palms were angry red as she wailed again, the sound choked and anguished. "Hold on, Tahnra, sweetheart, your mother will be here, and she'll make you feel better." Fear and guilt burned within him. "I'm so sorry."

Katara stumbled into the shelter, her face white and hands wreathed in water. She met Zuko's eyes for a moment and he tried not to flinch, but then she dropped to her knees in front of him. "It's okay, Tahnra. I'm here. I'm here. Give me your hands."

Zuko released her wrists and Tahnra held out her hands and Katara's water glowed around the burns, soothing them away. Her sobs dissolved to sniffles and she buried her head against his chest as Katara stroked her hair and Zuko remembered to breathe. Katara slumped back, shifting on her knees, and Zuko freed one arm to pull her against him. He kissed her temple as she lay her hand on his knee and Tahnra's sniffles quieted.

"Is Tahnra okay?"

Both he and Katara looked up, startled. Akiak stood at the edge of the carving shed, sucking his fingers, his eyes wide with concern. They stared at him, then Katara blinked. "Of course, sweetie. Tahnra's fine. She was hurt, but now she's fine. Come here." She held out her arm and he ran to them, crowding into the embrace.

* * *

Zuko's guilt lingered into the evening when he sat with Katara beside the sleeping children. "Tahnra is a curious child," she murmured, stroking Tahnra's hair. "She's learned this lesson before with the cookfires, and now she knows that the same is true for heated stones."

"I told her to be _careful_," Zuko whispered. "I didn't tell her what to be careful _of_. Or _how_ to be careful . Or –"

"Thuko. She's a child. She's learning how the world works, and sometimes those lessons are painful." Katara lay her hand on her daughter's back. "I was there, and the pain was short. Don't blame yourself."

"But –"

"No buts." She lifted her fingers to his mouth. "Firebender you may be, but Tahnra will bend water – if she bends anything – and this wasn't your fault."

He wanted to protest again but Katara frowned and tapped his lips. He sighed, instead, and she dropped her hand to take one of his. She smoothed her fingers over his skin, along his forearm. Their sleeping platform was dim, but Zuko knew she traced the scars there, fine scattered lines left by knives and rigging, a wider one from a blade blocked. The wound from her husband's spear, that she had healed a lifetime ago, had left no scar. "Thuko… I've wondered."

He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. "What?"

"You hold fire in your hands." Her fingers moved back down his arm, tracing over his palm. "You fight with it, you work with it. I've seen you surrounded by it. I've seen you heat rocks until they split apart when splashed with water."

He nodded, though she did not look up.

"And yet…" Katara sighed, touching his fingertips with hers. "You have no scars, here. No burns, as I would expect from one who holds fire, like those I have seen in villages and houses without healers. No marks, on you who wield flame."

Zuko held himself rigid as she lifted her hand.

"None save here." She touched the scar, her fingers so light he barely felt them through the damaged skin.

Zuko caught her hand and pushed it away, turned his head and willed himself to not tremble.

"What happened, Thuko?" she whispered.

The memories flashed by, the searing pain of burned skin and damaged heart. "I…" he started, trying not to remember. "I… I – it… it was a long time ago."

He knew by her breathing that she waited, for him to speak, for him to give an answer, an explanation, _anything_, but the memories were too painful, too shameful to be forced into words. _I'm sorry_, he wanted to say, but he said nothing, and she sighed. She pulled her hand free, reaching to touch the unscarred side of his face, and Zuko turned his head to kiss that hand.

She stroked his cheek and pulled her hand back. "I love you," she whispered, and settled herself into the blankets. Her breathing soon slowed, but Zuko found himself again sleepless as the night slipped by.

* * *

Orvik and a handful of young men from his house had tended the canoe overnight, sleeping in shifts to rotate cooled rocks from the water and heated rocks into it. Zuko started to apologize for his absence, but Orvik raised his brows. "A newly married man, spend the night in this shed? My aunt would have my head if I were to suggest it. Now." He gestured to the canoe. "Our wait is nearly finished."

Several of the young men drifted away as the morning stretched into afternoon as Zuko tended the cookfire and the stones. Orvik measured staves across the canoe, cutting each wider than the gunwales at bow and stern and several places amidships. The simple activity soothed the lingering feelings of shame and dread of the day past, and Zuko felt at peace when Katara stepped into the canoe shed with Akiak and Tahnra.

"We brought clams and salmon," Katara said with a smile. "Can you eat with us?" Akiak released her hand to sit next to Zuko, while Tahnra held out a basket and smiled.

They shared the meal with Orvik, who nodded in thanks and doted on Akiak. Tahra shared stories of a morning spent scrambling through tide pools, and when at length they gathered the empty baskets to leave, Zuko pulled Katara close. _Thank you_, he thought, but couldn't say the words, not then. Instead he kissed her, and she stepped back with a smile.

* * *

Billows of steam escaped the canoe when Zuko helped Orvik pull two tarps aside to reveal the interior. "The widest brace, please, Xtl'ikgut'tlak. Yes, that one. There." Each brace, Zuko had learned, forced the canoe's gunwales farther apart, spreading the vessel into the familiar graceful shape. Staves now lined the canoe, and Zuko wiped sweat from his brow before he passed the stave to Orvik. He braced the end nearest him while Orvik pounded the other end into place. "There," Orvik said when he finished. "A fine day's work."

Tarps still lay over the canoe, distorting its lines, but Zuko saw the changes. The sides flared outward, tapering to a narrow bottom. _A seaworthy craft_, he thought, surprised by how much pride he felt. That simple pleasure lingered as he bade farewell to Orvik and made his way along the beach to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House.

Tahnra greeted him just inside the mouth-opening. "Look, Daddy, I _did_ it!"

Zuko accepted the spindle she held up. Thick lumpy yarn wrapped the center post, the fiber an almost garish bright blue. He remembered his mother's elegant fingers, embroidering with the finest silk. "It's beautiful, sweetheart – the most beautiful yarn I've ever seen."

She beamed as he returned the spindle, then scooped her up onto his shoulders and carried her to their family's place by the fire.

* * *

"Thuko…" Katara asked, when later they lay together in warm darkness. "Tell me about your uncle."

"My uncle?"

"You said – during our binding ceremony, you gifted me with a gift from your uncle." She rolled over to face him, resting her hands on his chest. "I want to know about him."

Zuko lay back, lifting one hand to stroke her hair. "His name is Iroh – my father's brother."

"Your _father_'s brother?"

"Why is that surprising?"

She shrugged, her shoulders dipping. "An uncle – oh, never mind. 'It's _different_.' "

"Are you mocking me?"

"_No_. Tell me about your uncle."

Zuko thought of manifests and calligraphy, scented steam and hearty laughter. Of strong arms and sincere welcomes and guidance when he needed it most.

How could he ever describe _Iroh_?

"He… he's nothing like – he sings. And he dances. He loves art, and fine food. He taught me how to make dumplings – Fire Nation food." Zuko smiled at the memory. "He'd like the Water Tribe." Zuko pulled her closer. "He'd like _you_."

* * *

The days slipped towards the equinox as Zuko spent his days in the carving shed, helping Orvik replace the braces with broad permanent thwarts. "The notch must be deep enough to support the end," Orvik explained, "but not so deep as to penetrate the hull."

While they worked, Arluk made paint, scooping oils and minerals and what looked like fish eggs into a great basket and mixing them with a narrow paddle. It looked and smelled greasy, but Arluk and Orvik nodded in satisfaction.

When Zuko returned that evening to Wolf-Howls-At-The-Moon House, Katara sat by their sleeping platform, the painting he had made unrolled across her lap. Zuko watched as she studied it, tracing her finger over the brush strokes and pale washes.

She looked up when he sat beside her. "What does it say?"

Zuko felt his face heat as he pointed. "This is the date. How we mark the passage of time. This part –" he moved his finger to point "—marks the day of the binding ceremony, as close as I can to tell to our calendar. This part marks the month, and this part the year."

Katara nodded, and indicated another block of characters. "What about that part?"

Zuko ducked his head, hoping to hide his blush. Katara bumped his shoulder with hers. "Thuko, what does it say?"

"It says… it's a – a _poem_ I wrote, for you. It's like a song." His face burned with embarrassment as he waited for her teasing comment, but instead she took his hand.

"This is how your Fire Nation shows a marriage?"

Zuko nodded. "In part. We have ceremonies, too – and we would notarize it. Sign our names before a witness."

Katara's brows rose. "Then we should _sign_ it," she said, then tipped her head to regard him. "How do you make your name?"

Zuko swallowed his surprise and rose to his feet. His chest of belongings sat in its place under their sleeping platform, and he sifted through it for brushes, paint, and a scrap of parchment. His hand remained steady as he dipped the brush and set it to the surface. Katara stayed quiet, expectant, as his name took shape. The characters looked foreign, more foreign than the date and the lines of poetry, as if they belonged to another person, another life.

Katara studied it. "How would you make _my_ name?"

Zuko paused to think. "What does Katara mean?"

She flushed and dropped her eyes, surprising him. "She who does not hide from the storm," she muttered. Zuko considered teasing her, but her expression stopped him. Instead, he again set brush to parchment as he thought out the characters.

"This," he said as he drew short lines and strokes, "means 'stand down'." Katara started to protest, but he continued writing. "This part is a negative – it makes the whole character, this group of lines, mean 'does not stand down.'" He paused to think, then drew out another character. "This means 'storm' – a steady rain from the ocean. Though we have a lot of words for storm – maybe you should be _typhoon_, instead."

"What?"

"Nothing. This," he drew a third character "means 'woman'." He drew the possessive modifier beside it. "That makes it mean 'hers.'" He tapped each character in turn. "So this is how I would write 'She who does not hide from the storm.' _Katara_."

She stared at it, touching the "stand down" character, now dried, with one careful finger. Zuko saw her lips move, mouthing the sounds of her name. He set the brush down and slid his arm around her, pulling her against him.

"Gran should be our witness," she said.

"What?"

"You said we should… _write_ our names in front of a witness. To make a marriage in your Fire Nation."

"We don't have to –"

"I want to."

Something in her expression made Zuko's protest die on his lips. He nodded instead, and saw relief wash over her face, then uncertainty.

"Will you…" she started. "Will you write my name, for me?"

Zuko swallowed against the ache in his throat, the hope and uncertainty and desperation in her voice and on her face. "Of course."

Kana agreed to witness the signing with a grumble that softened as she watched Zuko write Katara's name, then his own. Katara stared at the parchment as the ink dried, that same mix of feelings on her face, and Zuko forced his eyes down to the painting as well. The black lines and ancient characters stood out against the background, final and official as those of any scribe. Zuko waited for the lurch in his stomach, the conflict, but for the first time, it didn't come.

Katara laid the painting atop one of her own chests to dry as they ate the evening meal. She stared at it after they finished eating, too, until Tahnra scrambled up beside her.

"What is it, Mama?"

Katara smiled and tilted the painting for her to see. "This is a _painting_. It shows – what does it show, Thuko?"

Zuko cleared his throat. "That's Jang Zhei Shi – the great capitol city." He pointed. "That's Hu Tei Mountain. The sages say it's a sleeping dragon that guards the Fire Nation."

Tahnra nodded, her eyes wide. "Is that your home?"

"It… was my home, when I was young."

"Do you miss it, Daddy?"

For an instant, he smelled yin tao blossoms, snowy pink and fragrant. "Yeah," he said, trying not to choke on the memory. "I miss it, sometimes."

* * *

The silence felt heavy that night, when Tahnra and Akiak lay asleep beside them and Katara lay her head on Zuko's chest. He waited for her to speak, to ask, and wondered how he would respond, but she said nothing. Anxiety built inside him, pushing at his throat.

"My father…" he whispered, but didn't know how to continue, didn't know if he _could_ continue.

Katara lay her hand along his neck, her fingers warm and strong and solid. "Our child will always be loved, by both of us, even if you aren't here to say the words."

Zuko had no response, tears burning in his eyes and his throat thick with emotions he thought he'd forgotten. He swallowed, and turned his head, and nodded once against her shoulder as she threaded her fingers through his hair and stroked his cheek with her thumb. He pulled her tighter against him and reached deep within himself to breathe deep once, twice, feeling the fire swell and contract as the tears slipped down his cheeks. His breath shuddered but she didn't pull away, only kissed his forehead, her own breath warm against his skin.

He relaxed as the sting in his eyes receded and his breath calmed. Katara rested her cheek against his for a long moment, then moved against him, shifting in his arms and settling the blankets around them. He pulled her close, burying his face against her neck, and soon fell into easier sleep than he had since the binding ceremony.

* * *

The equinox dawned bright and blustery, the wind pushing towering clouds through blue sky as Zuko stood on the beach. He felt… _good_, the lingering uncertainty overshadowed by simple happiness.

He smiled when he heard footsteps on the beach behind him, and turned to greet Katara.

"Do you know what today is?"

She smirked and slipped into a bending stance before answering. "What? The day you get _wet_?"

Zuko saw the strike before she made it and leapt away. "The equinox," he called, gathering fire in his hands. "The spring equinox."

"You and your foreign ways – what does that even _mean_?"

"It means that the day is as long as the night. It only happens twice a year."

They moved over rocks and bleached logs, splashing through the shallows and trading blows. Back and forth, push and pull. "And you doubtless have a ceremony – a _festival_ – for it, in your Fire Nation across the ocean."

Zuko ducked, avoiding stinging tendrils of water. "Of _course!_"

"The longest day, the longest night – what do you celebrate when the day and night are equal?"

Zuko waited, recognizing her motion. He heard the rippling noise of a wave rising behind him, and lunged when Katara's arms were highest. He caught her with one arm around her waist, one trapping her arms against her body. She struggled, twisting against him, but he held her fast.

"_Balance_," he whispered against her ear, and he felt the fight bleed from her body. Her head fell back, revealing the curve of her throat as he kissed her neck and slid his hand over her hip. She shivered against him and Zuko lost himself in her.

* * *

Half the village, it seemed, came to the carving shed that afternoon to help turn the canoe. Men and boys took places along its length and on Orvik's command, picked it up and swung it overhead as Ontok drummed a steady rhythm. At Orvik's next words, others stepped in to move the supports into new positions. A third command had the canoe settled back on the frame, its smooth hull ready for paint, as voices raised in song around it.

The words were a blessing, a prayer to the spirits and thanks to the tree and the carvers who had brought forth the canoe's shape. Zuko stood silent, waiting again for awkwardness to settle in his gut, but instead he felt at peace. _Balance_, he thought, as Orvik laid fresh cedar boughs over the canoe.

Katara stood among those gathered, her mouth open in song and holding Tahnra and Akiak's hands. Her expression creased into a smile as their eyes met, and Zuko thought again of yin tao blossoms, the quiet of the orchards at his mother's family's mountain compound.

_Home_, he thought, and it wasn't the Fire Nation he thought of.

* * *

**_Author's Note 11/6/12_: This story is not done!** Chapter 36 is slow, but it is coming. Keep watching!


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